


Move With the Snowdrifts

by tommoandbambi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Harry is introverted and really shy and pines helplessly, Is this an actual fic or just me waxing poetics about Louis and Zayn's cheekbones, It's all Niall's fault, Louis Tomlinson's Bebo is mentioned because why the fuck not he must hate himself for that, Louis antiships narry but what's new, Louis plays a Young Scrooge and is the king of sixth form basically, M/M, Most of the characters are very minor, Non-Smut, Pining, Theater!AU, Ziall is pretty minor but cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommoandbambi/pseuds/tommoandbambi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not a crush or anything outlandish like that, he just finds Louis as a good person to just sit around and admire what he's like. But that doesn't mean anything. The only reason why he's even here is because he was a fool that decided to be a supportive friend, completely forgetting that he'd be overexposing himself to the likes of Louis Tomlinson (who Harry's pretty positive can cause temporary blindness when looking straight at him because he's that bright). Not that it matters, seeing as Louis has been devastatingly underexposed to Harry (i.e. Louis, as well as basically everyone else in their year, has no idea that Harry even exists.)</p><p> </p><p>[or in other words, harry is the world's best wingman and louis is sunshine. feat.: an impromptu blizzard and A Christmas Carol.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move With the Snowdrifts

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was a prompt fill asking for a sixth form AU where Louis is popular and Harry is shy and has few friends, and somehow all five of the boys get trapped at school due to a freak blizzard. So I sprinkled my fairy dust and added a plot to this relatively open but still lovely prompt. It was meant to be around 5k but somehow it got to be over five times that amount? Oopsie. 
> 
> This is basically a lot of fluff and pining and there's way too many awful puns. I'll probably get arrested for this. So it was fun while it lasted! Thanks to Auggie for beta-ing and to Bevs for britpicking and also Tori for being so lovely and holding my hand through this entire exchange!
> 
> Enjoy xx

It's nearly four o'clock and Harry is in a state of crisis.

The door to the amphitheater is large and domineering, standing ornately in front of him in a stand-offish sort of way. Does he really want to do this? _No_ is the obvious answer. But Niall asked him to show up, and he's - admittedly - one of Harry's only friends, so it's probably best to not disappoint him. And he won't, he just has to open the door. To certain doom. Alright.

A hand shoots out in front of him, pushing the door open swiftly and shouldering past Harry like he wasn't even there in the first place. Which, isn't such an unusual concept. Harry has accepted the fact that he's at the social equivalent as gum under someone's shoe a long time ago. That's just how the social ladder of sixth form goes; either be out there or be nowhere. He's alright with it.

Harry breathes in and hoists his satchel higher over his shoulder before stepping into the metaphorical catacombs of the school's backstage. It's a whirlwind already, even though open auditions aren't supposed to start for another quarter of an hour. Girls toting makeup bags are flitting about and fast-talking boys perusing clipboards are directing stage hands to and fro. It's the type of controlled chaos that makes Harry feel tetchy, like his skin is being pulled too tightly over his own bones, and the lone person that it's all orbiting around is none other than one Liam Payne.

Liam's alright, for a star rugby player who wouldn't be able to get a passing grade without autocorrect. He doesn't live into the stereotypical format of bashing in the nerds' heads and making bad, objectifying jokes about everything anyone says. He actually is able to hold (somewhat) intelligent conversation, is the stage director for the drama club, and it also helps that he is the actual human embodiment of a puppy.

"Alright everyone," Liam Payne announces in a raised voice, struggling to be heard over the din of the crowd. They all actually quiet down, surprisingly. "If you're a newcomer, listen up. Auditioning actors will be following Perrie to the left wing to retrieve your numbers and to also brief you on how we will be judging your auditions." Liam points to Perrie, who is already standing on top of a folding chair and waving wildly for all of the actors to follow her along. "Now for the techies. Anyone into lighting or sound control, follow Josh to the control room. And anyone interested in make up, set construction, costume design, etcetera, follow me." Liam punctuates his spiel with a solid clap of his meaty hands, and the working mass quickly disperses, following after Perrie and Josh like dutiful ducklings.

Harry doesn't realize that he's been kind of just standing in the middle of everyone's way in his own world until someone bumps into his arm and jostles him forward. Harry catches Liam smiling kindly at his group while Josh and Perrie walk briskly with their mouths set to their destinations for their meetings. That decides that, then. Harry walks towards Liam's slightly less-terrifying mass of people and slots himself between two kids that he's seen around but has never caught the names of.

"Hey," someone whispers into his ear as Liam begins nattering on about the different types of positions that need to be filled in order to 'make this play work'. Harry turns to see Niall smiling stupidly at him around a granola bar. "So you came."

Harry snorts quietly, "Of course I came. I couldn't let you make an arse of yourself just to woo Zayn Malik alone."

It's slightly (extremely) hilarious to watch Niall as his eyes widen and he chokes on a piece of granola bar before whipping his head towards Zayn Malik, who is off to the side of the group looking effortlessly cool and disinterested. Which, Harry assumes, is Zayn's natural standpoint on life. It's highly unfair. Why Niall decided that he's not-so-straight when it comes to Zayn Malik is not completely lost on Harry. Possible-Android-Adonises are always an excpetion. It isn't so funny when Niall digs his bony elbow into Harry's side with an anguished grunt while whispering "Bugger off, H."

"Excuse me," Liam Payne ceases his monotonony about the importance of creativity and detail in theater to stare sort of domineeringly at Harry and Niall. _Great_. Niall always has this habit of ruining things in the blink an eye and dragging Harry along with him, and, seeing as Harry isn't a charmer with a smile full of sunshine, he is usually the only one to get in trouble. It's a science, by now, one that Harry has acclimated to. "This is actually pretty vital information, and if you're not interested in any of it, then you might as well not waste any more of your time and leave."

Niall opens his mouth, probably to crack a quick joke to deflect the embarassment or to just outright laugh at nothing (both are equally possible) but is instead cut off by a high scoff. "It's that sodding voice of yours', Li, you could put a kid faster to sleep faster than Mr. Norris," Louis bloody Tomlinson says, eliciting tentative laughs from the cluster of techie-hopefuls as he swings a lithe arm around Liam's broad shoulders easily, exuding an easy vibe that Harry has only wittnessed from easygoing people like Niall.. or Jesus, probably. "You were probably driving poor Horan stir crazy, that's all."

"That's right," Niall latches on to the taunting easily, face loosening like he's just fell back into his own skin. "You should be selling watches with that voice, Payne."

Everyone laughs again, even Liam this time, and Louis pulls Niall in for some elaborate high-five-knuckle-touch-bro-hug routine while Harry looks at the scene unfolding around him, face frozen like an idiot. He should've known that Louis would be here, after all, he is kind of the drama prodigy of the school and has been ever since he posted an Instagram video of him belting out the bridge of Money Grabber with Zayn Malik and didn't recieve any harsh backlash from _anyone_ at _all_ and then took that as his cue to do whatever the hell he likes and join the drama club, because no one's going to ever give Louis shit about what he wants to do, and then Louis, footie-star and all time popular bloke actually managed to make _theater_ seem _cool._ Which is probably why people like Liam Payne and Perrie Edwards and even _Zayn Malik_ joined the club, automatically upping it's status. Harry might be a little too aware of random facts about Louis. Like how he has six siblings. And how his birthday is on Christmas Eve. It's not a _crush_ or anything outlandish like that, he just finds Louis as a good person to just sit around and admire what he's like. But that doesn't mean anything. The only reason why he's even here is because he was a fool that decided to be a supportive friend, completely forgetting that he'd be overexposing himself to the likes of Louis Tomlinson (who Harry's pretty positive can cause temporary blindness when looking straight at him because he's _that bright)_. Not that it matters, seeing as Louis has been devastatingly underexposed to Harry (i.e. Louis, as well as basically everyone else in their year, has no idea that Harry even exists.)

"Alright, Tommo, don't you have somewhere else to be? Other people to annoy? We're a little busy, here." Liam grumps, kind of, at Louis before breaking into another crinkly smile that Louis quickly returns to him. Harry's heart might actually burst.

"Sure, sure. Let me guess, the entire intinerary is already off by an entire five minutes." Louis mocks before slapping Liam jovially on the back once and flitting off from the cluster that's formed around him in the few short moments with a two fingered salute, taking all of the air in the room away with him. Or maybe that just happens to Harry.

"Now that that's over," Liam waits for a beat with a pleased look on his face, "lets get started."

By the end of the meeting, Harry's mind is already swimming with odd theater jargon like ad-lib and blocking and catharsis and how the word _apron_ can also apply to a part of the _stage_. What. He can feel the gears in his head shifting way too quickly trying to sort out all of the new information about people acting like _other people_ of all things. He doesn't know why he thought that this would be a good idea at all, maybe he should've stuck to just staying home and watching Netflix while playing with his cat, Dusty. But, no, instead he has to deal with jotting down quick notes in his journal about dry techs and fly systems like an idiot while everyone (including Niall, who was probably just faking it) just nodded along like they were familiar with those words and used them as regularly as the word tea. Liam lets them go after he hands out a slip of paper, telling them to write down whatever they'd be most interested in doing. Harry groans and goes off to one of the deserted corners, lying down dejectedly on the wooden floor and staring at the blank piece of paper like it's the public enemy number one. The things that he does for the sake of Niall's dick; seriously, Zayn Malik better be worth it.

"So what're you signing up for?" Niall asks as he plops down on the floor beside Harry, kicking out at his shin lightly with a sated smile. Harry leans up to see what Niall is making heart eyes at; Zayn, of course.

"Not sure," Harry lies back down fully again, but not before flicking Niall between the eyes. "Either a makeup artist or a costume designer, probably. You?"

"Backdrops, of course," It speaks volumes about their friendship that Niall doesn't even bat an eye at Harry's choices and instead chooses to fiddle with some pieces of Harry's hair that has fallen from his headscarf. "Why would I join drama club to scope out a lad and not do everything in my power to be closer to him? It's all about making sure that he's the right fit, that we get on well enough."

Harry couldn't ever imagine a single person that wouldn't get on _spectacularly_ well with Niall. But maybe he's biased, because Niall is the only one that makes sure to include Harry and he also laughs at Harry's puns. Which makes him, like, infinitely more cooler in Harry's mind.

"Didn't Liam say that you have to be artistic to work on backdrops?"

"I'm Niall Horan, I can do anything."

Harry snorts and reaches up to dig his fist into Niall's side eliciting a chuckled gasp from him. Harry's breath is knocked out of him when Niall rolls onto his stomach with a war cry before pulling at Harry's hair. They're both laughing and huffing into eachother's faces and Harry feels an all-consuming type of fond for Niall because this is why they're best mates, it's like they can sense when they need to let loose and forget everything and just laugh. Harry knows that when he feels like he's drowning in a massive wave of people that makes him feel overcrowded and faceless, he can turn to Niall and feel like a somebody, and Niall knows that when he feels overstressed from everyone watching him and always expeecting him to be funny and happy, that Harry is someone he can talk and bare his flaws to. It's a method that Harry relies off of heavily, and he's pretty sure that Niall does too. It's like, Harry might only have one friend in the school, but it's Niall. And Niall is friends with everyone, but Harry will always listen to him when he wants to be serious.

"Well, I haven't seen two people in a position like this ever since the Liam and Danielle debacle." Harry's cheeks flush instantly, and Niall automatically rolls off of Harry. He can tell that it's Louis that's standing over them, teasing, even though his headscarf was pulled over his eyes in the mess of the tickle war. Which is kind of pathetic, really. But no one has to really know about that, besides Dusty and his Mum, probably.

"Payne, then?" Niall chuckles and stands up, thrusting his hand backwards for Harry to grab. Harry takes it and stands, his lanky limbs that he still hasn't fully gained control over making a production of themself. It's quite embrassing, really, even more so after he pushes back his hair in his scarf to see Louis Tomlinson arching his eyebrows at him like he's some odd spectacle - _Oh God_. Harry shuffles behind Niall (like that helps anything, he's a sodding _yeti_ as of lately) and clears his throat awkwardly while Niall laughs. "I thought that that packet he gave us had a rule about 'No coitus within a kilometer radius of his prized stage.'"

"That's Payno for you, always making rules and breaking them in his own time." It's kind of amazing, really, to see how Louis and Niall play off eachother even though Harry knows that they're not that great of mates. That's probably just a perk of having an easily charismatic personality. "What brings you here anyways, Horan?"

"Uhm," Niall visibly flounders before bringing down his hand on Harry's back, clenching nervously to it, too, but only Harry knows that. He slides his eyes over to Harry, radiating the plea to _Please not tell one of the loudest mouthed people ever about my crush on his best mate_ slyly before turning back to Louis, ruffling Harry's hair. "H, here, has been bit by the theater bug, and he talked me into not letting him brave it alone. I agreed, of course, ace best mate that I am."

"Oh," Louis Tomlinson actually _looks_ at Harry and he's _instigating conversation_ with him and it's a high possibility that he will choke on his own tongue right now. "So what do you want to get into, then? Not acting, obviously because you didn't come to that meeting."

Harry's torn between the rush of _Louis is actually speaking to me and acting like I'm more than Niall's shadow_ and _How am I supposed to even answer that?_ So, he says the first thing that he can think of.

"Costume design." He says, like an idiot.

"Oh, sick." Louis slides his eyes away and Niall pats Harry's back comfortingly. "Oi, Zayn, get your scrawny arse over here!"

Niall drops his arm from Harry's shoulders and Harry can practically feel Niall drooling as Zayn practically saunters over to them, pulling on a leather jacket while smiling at Louis like there's some private joke going on between the two. His smile falls when he comes to stand in front of Harry and Niall, but it's still life altering in nearly thousands of ways.

"I've got to go, have to babysit and all tonight. We'll talk again soon." Louis tells them with one last dazzling smile before he and Zayn walk away, stopping midway for Zayn to pull Louis in a headlock that has everyone laughing.

"Buggering fuck, that isn't fair." Niall mutters while pulling on his jacket.

"What's not fair?" Harry checks his phone quickly, frowning when the only texts he has is from his mum reminding him about how he needs to check in on his Nan on the way home.

"How two extremely fit and cool people can be grouped together to be best mates. It's like they're trying to smack us in the face and ambush everyone with two genetic jackpots and it's _working_."

"Wait, you think that Louis is fit?"

" _Everyone_ finds Louis fit, H." Niall smacks Harry over the back of the head and drags him out of the stage and to the now-deserted hallways of the school. "Have you seen his arse?"

Yes, Harry has. He had a gym class with Louis once, and he had to suffer through Louis doing squats and running and he also saw him in the shower and the dip of Louis' back is absolutely _treacherous_. Harry can't decide if Louis' body was carved by gods or by Satan himself. He's sweating just thinking about it. Niall must know, too, because he's smirking up at Harry like the shit he is.

"I thought that we joined drama club for Zayn's cheekbones, not Louis' bum." Harry deflects, prying open his rusted car door and taking pride in the way that Niall's cheeks instantly redden.

"We are, but maybe the key to winning Zayn Malik is through Tomlinson's bum." Niall explains before blaring the car radio to some tinny reendition of a Top 40 song. He's so embarrassed and Niall-like that Harry doesn't even berate Niall for treating a human like they're something to be won.

;;

"So, you never told me that you fancied Louis." Niall assualts Harry with this lie around the boneless chicken wing that his Mum gave them on their way into the house. Harry peels his eyes away from the movie that they're watching - Jack Frost - to give Niall his best, innocent cow eyes. "Oh, don't give me that. You know that I won't tease you."

"Lies all of it," Harry outrages and snatches Niall's chicken wing out of his hand and takes a vindictive bite out of it. They fight over the chicken for a couple minutes with grubby, sauce covered hands before Harry is finally able to use his limbs to push Niall off the couch and onto the floor. "I do not fancy Louis Tomlinson. I just find him reasonably attractive, is all."

"Reasonably attractive? _Please_. You were looking at him like you were a serial killer and he was your favorite meal."

"That is an unparrallel analogy. Therefore, it's not true." Harry wipes his hand on Niall's white shirt for revenge before turning back to the telly. Just to see Jack Frost be hit by a dump truck. Ace, then. He turns back to Niall and pokes him in the bony chest. " _Speaking_ of analogies, how confident do you feel about that grammar test we took today?"

"You're trying to change the subject, and it's not working, mate. You fancy Louis Tomlinson." Niall claps his hands together and shovels a handful of crisps into his mouth before yelling, "Harry fancies -"

Harry smacks his hand over Niall's mouth and glares menacingly at him just as Gemma waltzes into the living room with her hair in a knot and wearing one of Harry's jumpers, stopping with her spoon full of yogurt en route to her mouth to pique her eyebrows at them before smiling devishly. Great.

"Ickle Harry fancies someone?" Gemma intones, plopping herself down beside Harry on the couch and pulling at his Harry. "Is that why he's looking at you like a rabid bunny, Niall? Does Harry have a _crush_?"

"No! Niall is just off his hat, again. You know how he gets. Like that one time, you know, when we were watching that movie? The one that has like all of the people from a lot of chick flicks in one movie? It has Anne Hathaway in it, I love her. Have you ever seen -"

"You're rambling, love." Gemma chuckles and pinches his cheek while Niall outright cackles at him. He hates (but also sort of loves) when they team up against him. "Whose the lucky lad, then?"

"It's Louis Tomlinson. Footie star, feathery hair, actor, _great_ bum on that lad. A right laugh, as well." Niall explains to Gemma and Harry might actually die right here. He has an extremely awful friend. He wouldn't dare tell Greg all about Niall's fat crush on Zayn Malik because he has an actual _heart_.

"Ah, a jock then?" Gemma frowns and pulls Harry's headscarf off his head and ties it around her own, batting his hands away when he starts to protest. "Be careful, love, boys like that usually end up being total prats when you actually get to know them."

Harry frowns, "That's awfully pessimistic, Gems."

"It's realistic. Lads like that are usually all talk and ego with no dimension underneath."

"Well if you'd look at that," Niall chuckles. " _I'm Gemma, I graduated Uni, I know everything._ C'mon, Gemma, you haven't meet Louis, but I have. And I can assure you that he has more dimension than that guy with the curly mustache that you've been fawning over for the past two months."

"Don't make an enemy out of me, Horan." Gemma growls. Niall and Harry laugh at her. Somehow it all ends up in a mess of limbs and random, creative curse words that Harry's mum walks into and just laughs at them before leaving. Harry might not have that many people that really know him - let alone his name - but he's more than content with the way he is now, with Niall, his sister, his mum and his cat.

They end up all curling up together on his couch with snow whipping outside and the fireplace going, Harry and his mum watching Home Alone while Gemma and Niall obessesively stalk Louis' instagram. Gemma was impressed with Harry's taste at first -"Wow, baby bro, you might actually not be as hopeless as I thought you were. He actually _is_ fit."- but now her and Niall are just cracking jokes about him.

"Does the lad _ever_ close his mouth?" Gemma asks in outrage, brandishing Harry's phone across all of their laps just so that their mum can look at it. Anne laughs and shakes her head, putting it back in Gemma's hand gently and then resuming to pull the knots out of Harry's hair, contendedly humming.

"No, he seriously does not ever close his mouth. He'd probably set up camp in detention if he wasn't always able to talk his way out of it. He's a bloody charmer, I'll tell you that." Niall laughs and grabs Harry's phone from her, scrolling down further until Gemma screams for him to stop.

"What are we doing on Instagram stalking him when he makes the same face in every picture and never smiles? We should go where all of the embarassment is: _Bebo_." Gemma and Niall are absolute maniacs. All Harry wanted was a warm, wintery afternoon with the people he loved, not to be tormented due to the likes of Louis bloody Tomlinson. Besides, it's not like Gemma and Niall will find anything that Harry hasn't found already. He may or may not have done his extensive amount of research already. But he definitely does _not_ fancy Louis Tomlinson.

"So this boy," Anne instigates with Harry as Gemma and Niall rove Bebo for Louis' profile. "He's kind to you, yeah? Doesn't try to bully you or anything like that?"

"Nobody _bullies_ me, Mum. They just.. don't notice me. There's a difference."

"Well does he notice you, then?"

"He kind of did today. But that doesn't mean anything, Louis could hold a conversation with a teacup and Niall just has a penchant for throwing things way out of proportion."

"I do _not_. Anne, believe me, he was looking at Louis like he had the sun in his pocket, it was sickening."

"Girls, girls, you're all pretty." Gemma interrupts and moves one of their plush chairs to sit facing everyone. "But we have bigger things to fret over. I present to you: Louis Tomlinson's Bebo."

They all make to grab Harry's phone, but Harry's mum actually manages to grasp it first, scrolling down with an outstretched finger because she still treats every smartphone like its an alien object. There's a crease between her eyebrows as she goes, but still a fond smile playing on her lips. Gemma actually lets their mum look for a little bit before snatching back the phone and scrolling on her own.

"A charmer, that's what you called him Niall?" Gemma snorts after a few seconds. "And what kind of gems does he use to have everyone falling on their knees? Little antedotes like ' _me wit a footie on my head lol'_? H, I am honestly questioning your definition of attraction."

Harry sighs for forever, hiding his face behind Niall's back while the room rolls with laughter. He knows the picture that's in the spotlight, one that he found late at night in hopes to find some wanking material in the form of a shirtless Louis Tomlinson but instead was met with a young Louis with an actual football that was torn open for him to wear like a hat. And Harry, actual lovesick bastard that he is, was actually kind of enarmored by it. The picture may or may not be hidden in the depths of his laptop under a picture folder of _'cool banana recipes and kitten sweaters!!_ ' He might actually be the most embarrassing person ever, Louis and his unfortunate Bebo severly outranked by Harry's own quirkiness.

"I think that he actually had one of the worst haircuts. Ever. How have we forgotten about this golden era of time? Whose soul did Louis have to sell just so that he isn't openly mocked everyday?" Niall asks wetly through laughter.

"Please, Niall your hair was dyed so blond at once that it looked like you were bald. And don't make me bring up your Ellen Degeneres phase." Harry defends, wrenching his phone out of their evil hands and shoving it down the front of his trousers. Enough is enough.

"Look how defensive he's gotten! Oh, Harry, you _do_ fancy him." Gemma taunts, pinching at his cheeks while Niall bats at Harry's face with a throw pillow. "It's fine, baby bro, everyone has an awkward stage, your boy just wasn't bright enough to not broadcast it on social media."

"He's not my boy , he's just Louis, the bloke that has only spared me a few sentences for the years that we've been in the same circles. It's nothing, Mum, really." Harry explains diplomatically, elbowing Niall in the gut when he starts to laugh. "Now, can we just watch this movie? I quite like the next part."

They hone in on watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas, Harry being given the position of middle spoon out of pity and apology while his mum goes to bake some shortbread cookies and Robin returns home just to laugh at them and join in on the viewing of Christmas movies. Gemma gets up and leaves halfway through just to go Skype her latest conquest, a lad with an actual curled mustache that she met at a teashop and has been sort of infatuated by for the past couple of months. Harry doesn't mind who she wants to be with, as long as it's not Niall, again. That little episode was an awkward nightmare on all parts.

When the lights have gone down in the living room besides the flickering fire place and the blue glow of the telly, and Niall has decided to spend the night because the snow was too heavy for him to try to brave for the trek home, Harry and Niall are left alone in the den, quietly planning what Niall has coined as Operation Adonis (aka: The Elaborate Plan In Which Zayn Malik Falls Aimlessly In Lust With One Niall Horan). The plan isn't actually all that well-thought out. Or finished. Or even consisting of anything more than having Niall work on backdrops under Zayn's wing and to try to charm him with good jokes (because a mate of Louis' obviously has to have a sense of humor, or else they'd just have a near permanent ulcer and want to strangle Louis, and Zayn seems pretty fond of him, so, yeah. Humor is more than likely the best way to go). And if Niall appears to be mucking it up royally, then Harry is to swoop in and save the day by faking an asthma attack that Niall will save him from and once they are out of everyone's watch, he will provide intricate disguises from the costume area if Niall really, really mucked up his flirtation with Zayn and they can't be seen by anyone in the school again. Ever.

"Like, I don't just like him because he's fit." Niall explains after a while, big eyes looking sincere and scared and so vulnerable. Harry feels so happy that Niall trusts him enough to be able to bare his feelings to him, but he also hates how scared Niall looks right now, so he tucks Niall under his arm and rubs his jaw over Niall's fluffy hair consolingly. "I like him because I can see that he's more than this persona he puts on. He draws alot and it's actually really good and he keeps up with political events and he goes to all of his best mate's footie games and it's just that I can tell that he's just a sweetheart, you know? But he's also so calm about everything and I just feel like we'd just fit so _well together_."

"Oh, Nialler. I'm sure that you two will. It'd be like a.. light and dark thing or summat."

"But what if he doesn't like me? What if I'm not serious enough or what if he doesn't like how much I eat? I really fancy him, H. I mean, I joined the sodding drama club for him. I am actually going to paint scenes from A Christmas Carol in hopes that he'll notice me. What if it's all for nothing?"

"Well don't change yourself for him or for anyone, at that. If Zayn Malik doesn't absolutely worship you by the end of the entire production, then that's on him. You're brilliant, Niall. Funny and a great pal and right fit, too. Don't let people who can't see that make you put yourself down. Anyone in their right mind can see how ace you are in less than five minutes."

"Thanks, H." Niall turns and embraces Harry back. Niall gives the best hugs, really, it's an imperative staple of their friendship. "You're pretty fucking brilliant, as well. I know I tease you a lot, but you know I love you, yeah? I wish that more people like Louis Tomlinson would notice you and realize how great you are. It's okay that you're shy, mate, but I just want to show the world how great you are."

"I don't fancy Louis." Harry protests, pulling a blanket over them and pressing play so that Will Ferrell's elvin face goes unfrozen and he starts to sing at his dad in an office.

"Sure you don't, mate."

;;

Backstage is absolutely _insane_ on the day of call backs. Harry has seen at least four girls and boys running across the stage in a rush to the loos with their hands cupped over their mouths, and some of the veteran techies are lugging around massive strands of wires, complaining about the woes of defunct lighting systems while Liam and his band of assistants order people around, announcing call times and shoving several scripts into the hands of less stressed out actors for the cold-readings. Mr. Winston, their director, is just standing in the middle of it with a sated smile, like he is in his niche, and Harry is starting to think that Winston might actually be a sadist, if the way he smiles at a girl that rushes past him with tears building behind her eyes is anything to go by. Niall is late, of course, having texted Harry earlier, claiming that he didn't really need to be at the actual auditions seeing as the positions for techies aren't going to be announced until the very end of the entire meeting. So while Harry is huddling in the corner of the backstage alone, watching aghastly as everyone goes through their pre-show momentum of stress and feeling like he's drowning in all of the sounds that's closing in around him and desperately trying not to make eye contact with anyone, Niall has probably set up camp by the vending machine that's just outside the music wing of the school stress-eating his heart out, because - if all goes to plan - Niall will be submitted to spending alot more time with Zayn Malik, which is probably equal parts exciting and terrifying for him, the poor thing.

"So," a voice pulls Harry out of his reverie, startling him into jumping probably twenty meters off the ground (a rough estimate of course, but surely he got some height in it, he is quite tall). A consoling hand comes down on his shoulder and of course it's Louis. Harry automatically starts blushing for no apparent reason at all. God, he's hopeless, isn't he? "I put a good word in with Liam, and you're defintely going to get in for costume design. He was right excited, and so was Caroline, as well. We were going to be quite desparate for help in that department. And then you came along, like a proper angel, you are."

 _A proper angel_ , Harry tries not to keen, but Louis with his high, soft voice acting like Harry's a right savior makes him feel like something so important and a little less like he's faceless when it comes to being part of the mass at school. Harry looks at Louis and smiles, because how can he not. He notes, for a terrifying second that this is the first time in a very, very long while when Niall wasn't there acting as a filter between him and someone else at school. What is he supposed to say? How should he act?

"Unngh," Harry musters up like an idiot. Flushing before clearing his throat and actually forming words, thank God. "Thank you, uh, sorry. You gave me a bit of a fright. And, like. Thanks. Because I like to sew and... stuff."

"Oh, you do? I've tried to before just to mend one of my sister's dresses while my mum was gone, but it turns out that I'm complete rubbish at it." Louis laughs at himself, Harry joins in, trying to act like he isn't mentally replaying the way that Louis' mouth moves and the way his eyebrows furrow and how his voice sounds just saying the word _rubbish_ , of all things. "Anyways, I shouldn't be surprised that you can sew. Not that that's weird or anything, it's just because you wanted to be in the costume department and it's kind of mandatory. I'm actually not mocking you, so I'm sorry if it's coming out that way. I mean it's quirky, sure, but sewing isn't just a girls thing. Lads can do it, too. Yeah."

If it was literally anyone else, Harry would automatically pin him down as being nervous after a spiel like that, but it's _Louis_ , and people like Louis don't get nervous. So Harry just nods and finds himself whispering, "Yeah, gender roles are shite."

Louis smiles, revealing his pointy canines and his eyes crinkle up so beautifully that Harry's heart starts doing stupid flips between his rib cage. "Exactly. I was actually just -"

"Tommo," Liam calls from across the room. "Come and get your script and tell me who you're reading for you wanker."

"Sorry, it appears that Mum is calling." Louis sighs then shoots Harry a quick wink, ruffling Harry's hair - thank God that he decided against the head scarf today - before pacing off towards where Liam is standing and shaking the massive script in Louis' direction in agitation.

Harry sits in one of the overly plush audience chairs to watch the auditions. Watching as Liam and Mr. Winston confer together during each performance, and actually being a little bit stunned at the amount of talent brought by so many of the people auditioning. People that he sees in class everyday and don't even seem like they'd be actors have been waltzing up there and absolutely owning the roles. It makes Harry feel strangely proud of his school, even though he's had nothing to do with it. Harry does actually feel a little guilty when Nick Grimshaw comes on the stage and is shocked that he's even into drama, let alone how amazingly Grimmy is able to portray Scrooge. When Louis comes on the stage, though, all of the breath is stolen from Harry. The -recently repaired- stage lights play off Louis beautifully, making his eyes seem unreal and giving Louis a literal halo from how it's reflecting off his hair. Louis looks like he has been dipped in gold, and Harry's heart just can't quite comprehend how to handle it.

"So, I have two roles that I'll be reading for -thanks for that, Ben- which will be Younger Scrooge and Tiny Tim. I'll pretend to not take offence to the fact that you lot actually called me _tiny_ when reccomending that I at least read for that part." Louis smirks at them before clearing his throat. It's actually visible: the shift from cheeky, talkative Louis to the character that he's slipping into. How his mouth goes from ready to attack to a small, fond smile with his eyes flashing in worry.

"I know it matters very little to you. Another idol has displaced me, and if it can make you as happy as I would have tried to do, I have no reason to cry." Liam reads from the script and it's amazing, really, the confusion that takes over Louis' face in response.

"What idol has displaced you?" Louis asks, voice fragile, hand rolling up his script.

"A golden one."

Louis fake-fumes, his eyebrows twisting in anger, "Now, there's a double standard for you! All the world speaks so vehemently against poverty, yet it condems the pursuit of wealth just as harshly!"

"You fear the world too much, Ebeneezer. All your other hopes have merged into the one hope of eluding the disdain of others. I have seen your nobler virtues fall away, one by one, until nothing is left but one master passion-- the pursuit of profit. It consumes you."

Louis shakes his head in anger, sitting down on the stage then standing back up, pacing forwards and pointing his finger at Liam. "What then?" Louis actually _hops off the sodding stage_ and paces towards Liam, leaning over the desk that they've set up and cradling Liam's face in his tiny hands. "Even if I have grown wiser and more astute, I haven't changed my feelings toward you."

"Oh, Ebeneezer, our promise to one another is an old one. We made it when we were young and poor, and happy to remain so until we could improve our fortune together by patience and hard work. But you've changed. You are not the same man." Liam pauses for a beat and Louis purses his lips, closing his eyes and straightening his shoulders. "Tell me, Ebeneezer: if all of this had not happened, would you seek me out and try to win me now, a poor dower-less girl with nothing to bring to a marriage?"

Louis' mouth opens, but he pauses before closing it and looking down at his own feet. It all feels so real that Harry nearly screams at Louis for being such a sodding bastard before remembering that it's acting.

Liam clears his throat and detaches Louis' hands from his face."Just as I thought. You may feel sad now, Ebeneezer, but I've no doubt that you will dismiss the thought of me very soon, as if you were glad to have awakened from a bad dream. May you be happy in the life you have chosen!"

Mr. Winston claps his hands together, ending the scene, but there are still small traces of the emotions that Louis felt still inhabited on his face, like he still hasn't quite shaken off his character that he has built in his mind. Harry's heart is soaring; he knew that Louis was good at acting. Everyone in the entire college knows that, but he's never actually witnessed how sodding _talented_ Louis actually is. Like, the performance nearly made Harry cry because Louis looked so heartbroken but also so stubborn and Harry's not just acting like this because he finds Louis aesthitically pleasing, he is just truly _brilliant_. There is absolutely no other way to put it. Louis also does a cold read for Tiny Tim, which was equally amazing performance wise but also kind of funny how easily Louis could slide into the mindset of a young boy.

"What all have I missed?" Niall asks as he slips into the seat beside Harry after Louis has walked off the stage. Zayn Malik is standing and clapping for Louis, which is too adorable, really.

"Louis Tomlinson." Harry breathes out as his only explanation.

"That's all I missed or has your brain to mouth filter went out again?" Niall asks, dick that he is. Harry punches his side and nods his head to where Zayn is sitting down from his standing ovation.

"You should go chat him up." Harry tell him.

"Zayn?" Niall asks and Harry nods. "No way, mate. I have to build up a foundation before even trying to start anything with him. It's an art, H."

"Then go build a foundation now," Harry urges, bumping his shoulder against Niall's. "Didn't you tell me just last week that there's always no better time than the present?"

"I was talking about _wanking_ , Harold, not fit boys that I'd very much like to build a relationship with." Niall snarks quickly just as Jesy Nelson comes on the stage for her audition. Harry jabs Niall in the side one last time before pulling him in for a quick cuddle. It's quite cute how red Niall's face gets everytime he calls Zayn fit. "Besides, Zayn isn't just the type to chat up. He's probably chatted up everyday. I need an angle before I go for the kill. Anyways, are we not going to talk about how you were drooling over Louis?"

"No, we're not, actually." Harry whispers, acting like he's actually paying attention to where Jesy is belting out Belle's lines loudly. "And I wasn't drooling, Nialler, you're off your hat."

"Sure you weren't."

Nearly twenty more people later -none of whom compared to Louis' brilliant performance, not that Harry's biased or anything- Liam is standing with a clipboard clutched against his chest so that he could clap at the room at large, smiling dopily and seeking out the gaze of everyone, nodding even at the techies that sat around and did nothing throughout the entire auditions. He might actually be perfect, Harry supposes, if only he was a little bit sharper when it comes to school. The crowd of techies and stagehands and nervously smiling actors slowly join in on the clapping, and it's like the whole room exhales. An odd sense of community has blanketed over all of them, or just Harry at least, as they all clap for each other. It's all just a beginning of some sort. Like so much is gearing up to start, like they (everyone in this very room) are all part of a mass that's going to war together. Instead of feeling the panic of being surrounded by people that don't know him and are probably judging him, he feels like he's part of something that can be so great. It's just this feeling of acceptance that Harry wants to wrap himself in and never leave. The clapping dies down and Liam beams at them from the stage, hands flipping through papers serenely.

"Alright, so Ben - uh, Mr. Winston, sorry - and I are already _so pleased_ with the potential for this showing. The auditions are so great and we have so many people ready to get their hands dirty just to make sure that everything goes smoothly. And that's really all that we can ask for. I have a great feeling about this, and the only way for this production to go now is up." Liam nods curtly at everyone before whipping out his sunny smile.

"Oh get _on_ with it, Payne. We don't have all night." Louis snarks from where he's sat up against Zayn with his perfectly ruffled hair and crinkled eyes and, _fuck,_ Harry's so infatuated with him.

Liam nods, messing with his clipboard even more and clearing his throat. "So the veteran techies can head out now if you want, but I'd suggest you stay so that you know who all you'll be working with for the next two months." Liam allows a pregnant pause for a moment: people shift around in their seats but nobody leaves. "Great, so let's get started.." Liam starts listing off names and the assigned jobs for the 'fresh blood' as Harry's overheard some of the vets that have taken to calling them as such. Niall nearly twists Harry's arm off when Liam announces that Niall will be working with Zayn in stage and backdrop design, hissing excitedly. And Louis was telling Harry the truth earlier, or so it seems, because Harry is now one (of the only) new costume designing recruits. After Liam finishes spewing out (a surprising amount of) names, he signals for several of the vets to stand up on different parts of the stage, explaining that they're the heads of their departments and will be the mentors for all of the new techies. Harry's seen most of them around the school before, of course, there's Perrie (who mans the stagehands), Josh (sound system extrordaniere), Zayn (backdrops and prop placement), Caroline (Harry's department, costume design), and Lou (hair and make up). There's also so many more people and even more smiling, open faces that's enough to make Harry's head swim, but if he ever gets lost, he can probably use Niall as a cheat sheet - the lad is always so great with names and faces, it's insane.

Harry meanders over to Caroline whose settled in the apron of the stage with two other girls and one boy -all of them are people he's had classes with but haven't caught the names of- and is twisting her hair up off her face while smiling encouragingly at Harry. He pigeon toes in front of the group, hesitating before shoving his -probably sweating- hand into the general direction of them, clearing his throat awkwardly before saying "Hello, I'm Harry."

True to every fear that Harry has about social intereaction, Caroline barks out a laugh just as soon as Harry's finished speaking, he's about to make a mad dash for the door -Niall can woo Zayn just fine on his own- but Caroline tamps down his fight or flight reaction by pulling him into a surprisingly warm hug.

"Sorry, love, you're just too cute." Caroline chuckles and detaches from the embrace with a sunny smile. "There's no need to be afraid, none of us bite in this department. It's the make-up artists that you have to look out for. Quite nippy, that lot is." Caroline adds slyly, eying the group that has surrounded Lou and her bright, lilac hair.

"I made the right choice, then." Harry smiles at her.

"Indeed. Moving on, this is Leigh, Ed, and Jade, they've all been with me since the start and will give you any help that you could possibly need. We're all a family in this production, but us four are like your immediate family. We will be in eachother's pockets while taking care of all of the actors' pockets. We try to be as drama-free as possible in this department -pun actually _not_ intended, by the way- so if you can just go along with that, that'd be swell. Or else I'll have to poke you to death with one of my needles." Ed, the homely redhead that's been quietly observing the whole time, snorts. Caroline reaches out blindly and pinches Ed's elbow in retaliation before continuing on. "On that note, I do need to know that you'll take the position in costume design seriously. We have a lot of complex costumes that we need to start planning out as soon as possible, and God knows it will take an arm and a leg to force all of the actors into sitting still for long enough that we can get their measurements - you can sew, right?"

Harry's so lost in all of Caroline's quickfire of words that all he can manage to do is to nod, "I can sew."

"Ace, then. It was an absolute terror trying to teach that one how to sew, he's lucky that I like gingers, or else he would've been out of a job." Caroline pokes lightly at Ed, before turning on her foot and leading them all like tiny ducklings towards backstage. "I'm going to show you our 'costume shop', where we'll discuss your slates and exchange numbers."

The costume shop is a glorified closet at best; with fabrics and costumes from past productions strewn about the room and sparkles coating the ratty carpet, and all of it's tied together with two old sewing machines tucked into the corner. Caroline rifles through one of the antiquated dressers and pulls out a huge stack of dog eared and thouroughly annotated papers and thrusts a considerable amount of the papers into Harry's hands.

"Payne-o, Ben, and I worked restlessly on this ever since we chose which production we will be doing," Caroline informed the room at large while giving Ed, Leigh, and then Jade some papers as well. "It's basically a lot of research of the costumes used in other communities for A Christmas Carol. I'll assign you who you'll be working with next week, but this is just so that you can go in and already have some sense of what you're getting into. This production has a lot of extras, so everyone will be assigned at least two extras and also some of the main actors as well. Look at the costumes and try to form your own ideas based off of those. If you're feeling particularly confident about one of your character slates, then be sure to show me and I'll ensure that you'll get that character."

"I think you're going to give our fresh blood a heart attack if you keep on like this," Jade says around a quick laugh while Leigh puts a faux-consoling hand on his back. "Look at the size of his eyes, Caroline. He's just started."

"Oh hush, you. He looks just fine. You're alright, aren't you, Harry?"

"Uhm, yes. I think - _yes_. Just.. we have to read this entire thing in two days?"

"Nobody _really_ does, I don't think even Caroline reads it all. I just skim the highlighted bits and look at the pictures." Jade explains, smiling all the while. "Remember the time when she just put a lot of blank pages in the middle with different smiley faces drawn in the middle?"

Ed and Leigh laugh while Caroline acts like she's too busy fake-sorting some fabrics while tutting at them.

"I could cast off you lot to be stagehands. And I know that Pez won't take your shit."

"You don't scare us. And by the way, Perrie _loves_ us, so that's hardly a threat."

"I can never win with you, can I?" Caroline sighs even though she's smiling. "That settles it, then. Harry's the new favorite."

They all laugh, Harry shuffling awkwardly from side to side while Ed squawks out an affronted "Why not _me_? I haven't done _anything_."

They all exchange numbers and Ed even asks Harry about his printed shirt and where he got it. He doesn't get the same terrified, floundering feeling that he usually does with a group of people who are all new to him. He actually doesn't feel like they're judging him with every action he makes or everything that he says. He just feels generally accepted, and it's bloody amazing.

;;

So group messages with a bunch of drama buffs is extremely insane. Like, Harry thought that texting with Niall and Gemma at the same time was pretty intense, with their habit of carrying on seven conversations at once at a terrifyingly quick rate, but nothing compares to getting stuck in between Leigh and Jade's quick wit combined with Caroline sending messages that are disturbingly just like how she talks -long winded with a thousand ideas at once combined with a few friendly cracks at each of them- and Ed's typed laughter all smushed in between. But Harry does manage to retain the real reason why the group message started in the first place, and that is that they're getting assigned their actors next week and need to ask around for any vintage looking fabrics.

Which is exactly why Harry has drug Niall down to the thrift shop on second and is currently piling hoards of -only slightly stained- fabric into his open arms. He also deposits some strands of yellowed lace, for the women's dresses, that he thinks is quite a steal, if he says so himself, before ruffling Niall's hair in thanks.

"I think I might shop for myself while I'm at it," he tells him. "I've only used about five pounds for all of this so far."

"Just _five_ pounds? No way, this all weighs a tonne." Niall pouts but allows Harry to stack a few concert tees onto the ever growing pile. Harry also plants on a few flannels that have probably seen better days, too, because why not? "You're really getting into this, aren't you?"

Harry nods at Niall distractedly. Does he really need another cheetah print shirt? Yes. He does. He adds it to the pile, studiously ignoring Niall's pointed eyebrow raise while doing so.

"Theater is actually pretty ace, innit? I mean, of course I'm having fun, I have an excuse to ogle Zayn's face for several, magnificent hours. But also the rest of the crew is pretty cool. A right laugh, some of them are. Have you met JJ yet?"

"I like theater, yes. Haven't met a JJ or anything, though."

"But you are making friends, right?" Niall asks, completely serious for a moment. He gets like that sometimes, concerned and fretting over Harry like a mother hen. "Like, this isn't just an awkward experience for you when I'm not around? I mean, I'm not saying that you're incapable of making friends without me, it's just that people are always stupid and hardly give you a chance."

"Aw Nialler," Harry turns to face him, feeling a sudden overwhelming fondness for his best mate. "It's quite cute, how you worry over me. But I promise, I'm having fun. Ed and I have even been texting about _Made In Chelsea_."

"Ed? That's the ginger, right? With the-" Niall signals at his face while pulling what's probably supposed to be some version of Ed's kitten-like smile.

"Yeah, that's him." Harry grabs half of the pile from Niall's arm and leads him to where a girl with a nose ring is flicking through a massive book behind the vintage styled cash register. She looks up from it when Niall deposits Harry's findings onto the counter and she smiles quite sunnily at the both of them.

"Did you find everything alright?" She asks in a Northern accent, and Harry nods.

The fabrics and his new additions to his wardrobe only cost a little bit over a tenner, and when they're out of the thrift shop the sky has already opened up and is covering the ground with an aggressive blanket of snow.

"Can't wait for Christmas," Niall sighs, twirling around dramatically as flakes stick to his heavy jumper. "M'going to give Theo a tiny motorbike."

"Niall, he's too young for a motorbike."

"You're never too young for a motorbike, Harry. And how else am I supposed to assert that I am the best uncle that he can ever wish to have?"

"You're his _only_ uncle."

"No, that's not true. I was talking to Denise the other day and she told me that Theo referred to you as _Uncle Harry_. It broke my heart, let me tell you, but now I know that I need to step up my Uncle game." Niall monologues sagely, pausing every so often to try to catch a snowflake with his tongue. Harry pulls his own beanie down over his ears before pushing him into the nearest street lamp. "Buggering _shit_ , H."

"Sorry." Harry smiles sweetly at him, digging out his beeping phone from his coat pocket to see that Caroline has fired up another group message.

"Should've known better than to trust you. It's the quiet ones that everyone should look out for."

"You're right," Harry bares his teeth at Niall and somehow it turns from a brisk walk back to Harry's house in a blizzard into a wrestling match on the sidewalk just outside of the shop that Gemma likes to go to every so often while snow seeps through their multiple layers until the cold gets so unbearable that they have to seek refuge in one of the corner stores.

The sun has already sunk pretty low in the sky and has vanished to be taken over by the inky, wintry night that Harry has became quite accustomed to, and also has a growing fondness for. Even though the pretty navy blues and deep purples of the night brings along the biting cold and black ice.

"Don't look now," Niall tells him while they're sniffing different types of lotions in the beauty aisle. "But your lover boy is over there getting a basket full of tampons."

"Lover boy?" Harry echoes while, naturally, disobeying Niall and turning around. He quickly turns back around and ducks so that he can hide behind the shelf and trying to calm his erratic heartbeat. Which is all in vain, really, because Louis Tomlinson is bent over and gazing attentively at a shelf in the feminine hygiene aisle wearing plaid pajama bottoms paired with an oversized sweater and a grey beanie and he looks so _soft_ and his bum looks _amazing_ and Harry just - life in and of itself is _unfair_. "Don't draw attention to us." Harry pleads Niall with as much vindication that he can muster up while surrounded by coconut lotions.

"Why not?" Niall pinches Harry's heated cheeks, trying to form a false sense of comfort for him, probably. Harry's known Niall too long to fall for his deceitful ways. "He's very kind, Harry. I know that you two will get on well. And weren't you just telling me that I should just 'go for it and chat' with Zayn? You're quite smart, H. You should take your own advice."

Harry watches, mortified and feeling like he's witnessing his own horror movie-esque demise as Niall clears his throat and waves a bottle of _Sexy Cinnamon_ lotion above his head while yelling, "Hey, Tommo!"

Louis jolts and hits his head on the face of the shelf that he had crawled over, and Harry has to physically refrain himself from checking his head for bumps while raining kisses on his tiny forehead.

"Nialler! Isn't this bloody convenient." Louis smiles at him and walks towards them, unabashedly, even though he's currently carrying a wired basket filled to the brim with tampons. "Ha, get it? Because.. Convenience store."

Harry lets out a seal bark of a laugh -he's always loved a good pun- while Niall lets out a chuffed giggle while pushing at Louis' shoulder.

"That was horrid, mate. Almost a a bad as H, here." Niall huffs then makes a pointed look at Louis' basket. "That time of the month again?"

"Yes," Louis sighs despondently, taking the taunting like a champ. "Always comes when I least expect it. Alright, Haz?"

 _Haz_ , Louis just looked Harry dead in the eye and gave him a nickname, Harry covertly grips one of the shelves just in case his knees give out on him; Louis' eyes are _glassy_ and he has _stubble_ rained across his jaw, no one can blame him for wanting to drown himself with corner store brand lotion.

"I-I'm alright." Harry's an actual idiot, really, it seems that every time Louis speaks to him he's hit with word vomit. "It's snowing outside." _You should be wearing more layers, and socks, probably. You're too pretty to freeze to death_.

Louis' mouth opens and closes, his eyes crinkling up adorably before nodding, "It is, innit? Quite observant of you"

Niall laughs at nothing before pulling Harry into a side hug and walking away wordlessly. Harry isn't sure if he's supposed to follow him or to keep talking to Louis. Louis is just standing there, smirking at Harry with an arched eyebrow that Harry wants to kiss softly _so_ badly.

"He's something else," Louis mutters after a few beats of slightly awkward silence. Harry surprisingly doesn't feel like he's being edged out from Louis, like how people usually do when Harry's left alone with them. "So.. Are you buying your special bird a gift?"

Harry looks back at the lotions and perfumes that Louis' pointedly staring at and has a terrifying realization that _He thinks that I'm straight_. Harry starts shaking his head empathetically.

"No, _ngh_. There's no birds for me. Niall and I just decided to pop in here and smell pretty things in the warmth while waiting out the snowstorm. So that we can walk to my house later."

"You two have been _walking_ in this?" Louis clarified incredulously. "No way. There's no chance that you can walk all the way home without freezing your nads off."

Louis takes Harry's wrist in his tiny hand and starts yanking him forward, grabbing a random bottle of perfume from the end of the aisle and swiping it into his basket.

"Uhm?" Harry finally says something instead of following Louis blindly like a willing sod.

"I'm going to buy these tampons for my sister, and then I'm going to drive you and Nialler home. Do keep up, mate."

"You don't," Harry flounders and absolutely does _not_ relish in how Louis' hand can't fit over the entirety of his wrist. "You don't have to. Niall and I can get home just fine, we just need to wait it out."

"Harold, look outside." He does, and it's snowing a _lot_. It's like the skies have opened up and gave way to massive tufts of it, coming down so harshly at an unforgiving pace that Harry can't even see the bakery that he works at across the street. "I'm not letting you walk through that; it might freeze your curls into place, and we can't have something as finicky as _Mother Nature_ mucking with your flowing mane."

Louis' teasing him, that's what it is. Teasing Harry lightly while pulling at one of his curly bits that's broken free from his beanie. But he also looks painstakingly serious, like he'll throw a right strop if Harry doesn't agree to let him drive them home.

"At least let me pay you for gas."

"You're unreal," Louis laughs and shakes his head. "Go find Nialler, I'll be done in a tick."

Harry finds Niall wedged between two child's clothing racks, fiddling with his phone and worrying his bottom lip. He starts when Harry ruffles his hair but still smiles like its a good joke before going right back to gazing worriedly at nothing.

"What's got you all bent?" Harry asks, pulling Niall out and picking up the banana printed onesie that falls in their scuffle.

"I had an epiphany while watching you drool over Louis."

" _Heey_ -"

"Oh, hush. _He's_ the way to get into Zayn Malik's heart, Harry! If I show Louis how wonderful I am, then surely he'll relay it to Zayn. And then I'm _in_."

"That idea is so horribly cliche that I can't even quite look at you right now."

"It's cliche because it _works_."

"It's cliche because it's a cliche, Niall. Just talk to Zayn like the human he is."

"I am ninety-eight percent that he isn't even human, H. I'll have to pull all of the stops for this."

"Well," Harry lets out a long suffering sigh and cuffs Niall lightly over the back of the head; the infatuated fool will never learn. "Come on. We're going home."

"Uh, no we're not. We wouldn't even be able to see our own hands out there, let alone where your house is."

"Who says we're walking?"

" _No_. Please tell me you did not con some Nan into giving us a ride home." Niall grips onto Harry's arm seriously, which is insane because Harry's only done that _twice_ , thank you.

"Not some Nan," an arm swings around Harry's shoulder at an -albeit slightly awkward- angle while Louis' high, scratchy voice causes Harry's mind to write sonnets about it on autopilot. "Just me, sadly."

"Oh," Niall pauses for a bit and his eyebrows furrow to an almost worrying level before he breaks into a smile. " _Oh_. Alright then, mate. Lead the way."

The walk from the corridor of the convenience store to Louis' beat-up car is an absolutely terrifying excursion, but the three of them brave through it. Harry is immensely thankful for his Burberry coat -his biggest splurge in the history of splurges- that at least prevents his midriff from freezing solid, but the unforgiving wind still whips at his neck and the exposed bits of his ears no matter how much he hunches in on himself and the snow is still seeping into his trousers and the holes of his boots. And Louis -the sodding idiot- just sprints towards the general direction of the lot because he didn't even wear _gloves_ either (it's like he's a bloody tourist here, really).

" _Christ_ ," Louis slams the door closed and rubs his hands together feverishly, turning completely around in his seat to swipe empty energy bottles and his footie bag into the floorboard, making a grand silent gesture for Harry to get comfortable while Niall makes quick work of turning on the defrost and the heat. "It was so cold out there that I'm pretty sure that all of us have lost our ability to ever have children."

Niall's in stitches before Louis is even settle back into his seat, and Harry's too cold and cramped in between all of these delightfully _Louis_ smelling things to even try to do any thing other than breathe.

"Such a shame. Harry's been on a baby kick ever since he was one, himself." Niall -the worst friend _ever_ \- chides. Harry manipulates legs to kick softly at the back of his seat in warning.

"Nothing wrong with that." Louis assures, turning the windshield wipers on to clear some snow off. "I've always wanted an entire brood of baby Tomlinsons, enough for a footie team."

 _An entire brood of baby Tomlinsons_ , yeah, Harry can _totally_ get behind that.

Niall and Louis make conversation about some footie team's absolute disappointment of a season earlier this year while Harry stares out the window and tries to tamp down his own giddiness. He never thought that he would speak to Louis, let alone know what the inside of his car looked like (an endearing mess, really, just like the owner himself. With footballs cluttering the floorboard and empty bottles and some footie kits with the odd Barbie doll wedged in between, also there's a pink booster seat that's probably seen more than its fair share of years, which does _stupid_ things to Harry's heart).

"So what do you say about it, H?" Niall drags him out of his reverie by pushing his seat all the way back just to look up at Harry and also to make his legs feel generally uncomfortable.

"What do I say about what?"

" _Bonding_ with the drama lot. Getting to know us, divulging your dirty secrets." Louis intones, eyes flashing at him in the rear view mirror.

"Making _friends_ ," Niall adds.

"I'm happy with the amount of friends I have now, thanks."

"Harry," Niall pouts at him, and it actually looks kind of horrifying, with the muddled street lights playing off his face with weird shadows and his beanie pulled all the way down to his eyebrows (not to mention the fact that he's upside down) makes him look like some outlandish creature of the night. Maybe he shouldn't have watched that horror movie marathon the other day to soothe all of the overload he was getting from the absolute tyranny of Christmas cheer that's been slowly taking over his home. "I love you a lot, but even _Gemma_ thinks that you need to have more social interaction. And she's even more greedy over you than I am. And you liked Ed, right? Just come and maybe you'll find more people to click with."

"Also, I'll be there. And I'm pretty bloody awesome." Louis adds on, nodding encouragingly. "Like, I know that you're not all that big on talking to people that's not Niall, but we're actually a pretty chill lot. And we also love corrupting the fresh blood."

"How is it supposed to make me feel better about going when you say things like 'corrupting the fresh blood'?" Harry muses, laughing when Louis' smile drops and morphs into this pursed-lip thing of pondering that makes him resemble a tiny little hedgehog. Or maybe that's because of his ruffled fringe.

"Perhaps I didn't think about that all the way through. But you have to come, or else Nialler and I will kidnap you, stick an ugly sweater on you, and force you to socialize with the completely terrifying lot that is the drama club for the entire night."

"Also, it is your civil duty as my best mate to attend it and ensure that I don't set fire to another microwave."

"Right, please don't let Niall burn Nick's microwave; he's quite fond of that posh thing."

"Does it really matter that much that I go?" Harry asks, fussing with one of the empty plastic bottles so that he has something to do with his hands. Niall reaches backwards and pats Harry's face; smiling stupidly up at him while trying to pull his cheeks up into a smile.

" _Yes_ ," both Niall and Louis say at the same time with fervor. Harry's stomach flips happily; he hardly feels so wanted, and it's just a very welcome thing.

"I'll think about it," he tells them, and Louis whoops, honking his car horn and taking a blind turn while Niall mouths ' _thank you_ ' to him.

"That's great, Haz. I'd love to get to know you more." Louis says seriously, the snow playing pretty shapes on the softened profile of his face. "On a more serious note, though, where am I even driving to?"

"Shit," Niall mumbles and _finally_ pulls his seat to an upright position and Harry immediately stretches his legs out and cuffs Niall over the head for vengeance; it _hurt_. "We're going to H's. I'll try to see where we are on my phone."

It takes fifteen minutes of Niall hurling explicitives at Siri and of Louis verbally worrying if he's even driving on an actual road for them to figure out that they've actually been driving up and down Harry's road for almost the entire time. That realization, of course, spurs Louis on to babble about how he has a _psychic's intuition_ and an _unfailing sixth sense_. At the end of the ride, Harry finds himself falling even deeper into whatever this is with Louis and also with a new number programmed into his phone. (He also realizes that he was sitting on a pair of Louis' -hopefully clean- footie socks for an inordinate amount of time. He absolutely _does not_ fill up halfway in his jeans due to thoughts of Louis in knee socks because Harry is a _gentleman_ , above all other things.) Louis parks as close to Harry's front porch as possible, cranking up his heat and huddling in on himself before allowing either of them to open up a door.

"Lost my gloves in the locker room, I suppose," Louis had explained while wiggling his tiny fingers before shoving them under his bum after he had parked. "You have your keys out and ready, Hazzah? Caroline won't stand for her newest recruit to have frostbite before the measuring starts up."

Harry nods and jingles his keys for Louis to see, holding them up by the banana keychain that he's had ever since he was nine. Louis notices it, of course, and instead of teasing Harry he just smiles softly at him with those damned crinkles branching out from his eyes at him for a bit while shaking his head. Niall opens Louis' passenger door (that only protests a little bit) with a brave warrior cry and rolls out of the car with a slam of the door before dissapearing in the hectic mist of the snow. Harry looks back at Louis to find him already staring straight at Harry, the lights from the console playing beautiful games with his eyes and his skin tone, swirling everything about Louis with these golden edges that makes him appear ethereal, Harry nearly reaches out to touch him, to verify that he hadn't just dreamed Louis up in the most creative bits of his mind, but he stops himself on the grounds that that would be really fucking odd. Instead, Harry fumbles over his gloves for a second before pulling them off, taking Louis' wrist and gently sitting the gloves in his tiny hand.

"You can give them back when you find yours. Have a safe ride home!" Harry rushes out before Louis can say anything -or even react, really- and hurdles himself into the whipping cold of the snowstorm.

Niall is already waiting for him on the porch, bouncing up and down and shuttering while fixing Harry with a glare -a _Niall_ glare, which is mostly just furrowed brows and a slightly dimmed smile, but a glare nonetheless- and stealing the keys from Harry's absolutely _freezing_ hands and unlocking the door unceremoniously.

Gemma is waiting in the threshold, the perfect picture of an overly worried mum, tapping her foot and peering through the slats of the window to watch Louis pull out of the driveway and into the midst of the snow before whipping her head towards them, sizing them up like they're dodgy fugitives.

"Since when did you two have friends that could drive?" Gemma breaks the silence with a practiced idle curiousity.

"I'm quite worried, Gems, about the investment you have in mine and H's social lives." Niall deflects, unwinding his scarf from around his neck; Gemma doesn't take the bait.

"Yeah, it's unusual, whatever. But who drove you home? Not another Nan again, I'm hoping."

"That has only happened _twice_ ," Harry only stomps his boot to rid it of snow, _not_ to show petulance, no matter what Gemma and Niall might say.

"It was Louis. Harry charmed him into bumming us a ride."

" _The_ Louis? Harry's crush, Louis? Does this mean tha -"

"Yes, thanks for your input, Gems, but Niall and I have homework that needs our immediate attention." Harry yanks Niall away by the collar; Gemma doesn't need to know everything that's happening in Harry's life (i.e: he's not in the mood to be teased relentlessly by Gemma while he's still living on the high of having spent time conversing with Louis). "We have a huge project in Chem, talking about addition and all!"

Harry frogmarches Niall up the stairs; and he just laughs and makes it harder on him, the prat that he is. They hide out in his room the rest of the night, huddling under mounds of blankets from Harry's closet and talking about nothing before falling asleep to the sound of snow hitting Harry's roof. It's all pretty grand, Harry thinks.

;;

The next drama club meeting is all numb fingers as Harry and the others work on their character slates. He was thankfully not given any costumes that were too difficult - he probably would've rolled into the fetal position and cried if he ended up with Ghost of Christmas Future,in all honesty- and Caroline seems to have _really_ taken to a shining to him, because she allows Harry to use the one small table that doesn't teeter precariously every time you so much as breathe near it, no matter how much Leigh bemoans about the woes of her own wobbly workspace.

"So, Harry. Dazzle me." Jade scoots her rolling chair closer to his and hooks her pointy chin over his shoulder. Harry doesn't even flinch too much at the sudden contact; he's learned over the past few meetings that the people in wardrobe are _very_ tactile. He's surprisingly enough okay with it- Ed is an _ace_ hugger, in all honesty. "Show me what you've been stewing over for the past hour."

"It's just..trousers." Harry sheepishly moves his paper to where Jade can see, and accepts the hair ruffle that she sics on him with indifference - they really are a tactile group, always touching someone lovingly.

"Still looks lovely, H."

" _Jade_ , where did you put that top hat?" Caroline whisks in with measuring tape draped around her neck and Jade's attention shifts away from him as easily as it landed.

They're supposed to begin measuring on their actors today, and Caroline has spent the majority of the afternoon chasing around Liam and wheedling information about who's available for five minutes. It's all very hectic and Ed had gave Harry the quick jist on how one is supposed to measure earlier, but he's still a little nervous. What if the actors expect him to chat with them while he's roving up and down their inseam? What if he _sneezes_ on someone's crotch?

"I am here to be touched." Louis _bloody_ Tomlinson crows, and Harry just. Throws his paper in the air kicks his legs out. Louis is a hazard; surely he knows that he can't just waltz into rooms and say things like that and expect everyone to not have a minor heart attack. _Don't get hard, don't get hard_. Harry turns around in his rolling chair slowly, thinking about the time that he walked in on Gemma and Niall snogging just so that he won't make things any more awkward than it already is. Why does he always wear his tightest jeans on the least optimal of days? "Alright, Harry?"

"Yes, ah. My hands twitched. And they.. threw the papers everywhere." _Stupid_ , Harry is actually _stupid_. "I'm just going to go find Ed."

Harry makes to shuffle out of the room quickly so that he can go to the cramped loo in the corner of backstage and douse his face with water, but Caroline stops him with scarily sharp nails digging into the nape of his neck and holds him firmly in place.

"You need Tommo's measurements, and this is probably the only time that he will be sat still for long enough for you to do it properly," Caroline explains and strings her measuring tape around Harry's own neck with an encouraging nod before whispering conspirationally, "Unless you want to try to get his inseam while he's pulling sheningans like pouring the entire container of industrail sized lube all over the stage."

"I can still _hear_ you, Caroline, and I will not stand for such rumors to be spread about me to my favorite Fresh Blood," Louis shoves jovially at her shoulder until she relinquishes her hold of Harry. "Now, let Hazhead and I get down to business."

Louis stands on the pedestool that Ed set out earlier with his curvy legs -that are wrapped in black jeans tight enough to rival Harry's- spread shoulder length apart, crossing his arms across his chest and smirking down at him like a mischevious kitten. Harry is conflicted over if he's more torn up about the loss of his view of Louis' sparse chest hair and collar bones thanks to his low cut shirt or grateful for the way that his biceps bulge obscenely. Either way, his mouth is drying at an alarming rate. Harry turns to grab a pen and his leather bound journal; willing himself to think about un-sexy things, like his Grandmum or crying puppies, anything but _this_. It is his goal to attempt to not make this entire excursion any more awkward. He chances a look back at Louis, who is worrying his top lip with sharp teeth and, _yeah,_ he's unmistakably doomed.

"The lube thing is actually true, but it only happened once." Louis tells him with a sly smile, like he's bestowing Harry with a great secret. He raises his arms easily for him, and Harry has to force himself to not rub the warm skin there as he holds up the tape; _don't be creepy_. "Should've seen Liam's face, I thought that he was going to spontaneously combust right there."

Louis starts laughing, and it sounds so happy and free that Harry can't help but laugh with him. He writes down how long Louis' arm is and moves back to double check -just in case- but is detoured by Louis' thumb divoting into his cheek.

"Quite a fan of your dimples," Louis shrugs and doesn't meet eyes with Harry; if it were anyone else Harry would think that he was blushing. "You should smile more."

"Duly noted."

Harry works silently for a bit, letting Louis ramble on about how much he's looking forward to playing Young Scrooge and how nicely the play seems to be coming together already. Louis does like to move a lot, twitching around like he's not satisfied unless he's touched everything in the room and makes up for being stuck still by filling the space with his high, lilting voice. Harry's more than content with listening to Louis talking about how his sister has been bringing around her new girlfriend and he's not sure how the 'Hurt my baby sister and I'll cut off your prick' speech will work out now, but that he's otherwise extremely happy for her. He also asks Harry a lot of questions about himself, like if he curls his hair everyday and if he has to sell his soul to Satan every morning just to put his trousers on. (He also asks about his family, which sets Harry off into rambling about his mum and Gemma without realizing it, but when he cut himself off awkwardly, Louis just smiled down at him with his crinkly eyes and told Harry to keep going.) They also bonded over how they both want to have a lot of kids when they're older; Louis explaining that he'd feel odd with a nearly empty house at any given moment and Harry just divulging that he likes to be domestic and he watches alot of his parent's friends kids for practice. ("And you're sure about the kids thing? Even as young as you are?" Louis had asked him after a bit and Harry nodded, exhaling "Totally," while Louis smiled softly at him.)

It wasn't until Harry was hesitantly sinking down onto his knees after a bout of mentally preparing himself for measuring _Louis Tomlinson's inseam_ that Louis decides to ask him about the 'bonding party' tomorrow and if Harry will actually be attending it.

"Well, I mean," Harry stumbles over his words and stares pointedly at Louis' scuffed shoes because his Horny Teenager Resolve will _definitely_ not be able to handle peering up at Louis while sitting on his knees right in front of him."I'm not sure, because like. I'm not a _real_ part of the club or anything."

"You cut that out right now, Harold." Louis berates Harry, his left foot taps impatiently like he's waiting for Harry to do something. He doesn't realize exactly what until Harry twines his hands into Harry's hair and gently yanks up until Harry is tilting up towards him, staring right up into the liquid fire of his blue eyes. _Don't get hard, please, don't get hard_. "You are important to this club. Everyone is an equal here, no matter what they do. The bloke lugging around a giant Christmas tree between scenes has just as much importance to this production as I do. We wouldn't suceed without all of us working together. If we didn't have you, then Caroline probably would have already stabbed all of our eyes with needles and then I'd be running around naked on stage. And _nobody_ wants a nude Young Scrooge, or else Dickens himself might roll over in his grave. You are a part of this club, and you need to branch out and meet all of us. We really are a great lot, and I'm not just saying that because they're like my family. I'm saying that if you show up they'll end up being your family, too. I know that you don't think that you have many friends, but imagine how many you'd have if you gave people a chance. I never talked to you before because I thought that you didn't want to be talked to. And now look at us: proper best mates, we are, sharing our secrets with you on your knees."

Louis chuckles and Harry does too, but there's still a level of seriousness in his eyes, radiating that he meant what he said but just decided to make it all more _Louis_ by tacking on a joke at the end. And he's actually right, if Harry thinks about it enough. Harry's always felt like he never fit in with the crowd, but the reason for that might be that Harry actually never attempted to fit in.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, either."

"Oh?" Louis smiles and unwinds his hand from Harry's hair slowly, like he doesn't really want to make them leave; Harry doesn't want Louis' hands out of his hair, either. "And what is my great flaw?"

"You act like you're not good for much more than a laugh, but you have a lot of passion under all of that. For the people you care about. It's sweet."

"I suppose you're right.." Louis shifts on his legs and wiggles his hips teasingly at Harry. "Now, please do get to work and measure my inseam. I was meant to be running lines with Hannah fifteen minutes ago. Don't get the mind to be handsy though, I've got my eyes on you, Styles."

Harry chuckles and gives Louis' knee a prefunctionary squeeze so that he'll spread his legs further and sets to work. Okay, so maybe Louis has turned out to be more brilliant than he thought he would be, Harry's not complaining.

Niall latches himself to Harry's back before he's even aware of his presence, but he welcomes it all the same. Harry never figured that measuring and writing down the lengths of wriggly actors would be so stressful but it _is,_ and he can't wait to go home and huddle under one of Gemma's fuzzy blankets and watch _Nativity_. Perhaps he can charm his mum into making him one of those cups of cocoa with the choclate that Robin get from Germany on one of his business trips.

"Zayn Malik is _wonderful_ ," Niall exhales into Harry's neck wistfully. Ed walks into the studio and raises his eyebrows at them but doesn't say anything. "He's taking his little sisters to the soup kitchen this Saturday to help them learn about how they should always think about people in need."

"That _is_ wonderful," and it also confirms the fact that Zayn is probably an Anrdoid to Harry. He's just too perfect to be true.

"I'm going to have to borrow Gemma's car."

"What? _Why?_ Don't you have an older brother for a reason?"

"Yes, but Greg is taking Theo to meet Santa this Saturday, and I offered to take Zayn and his sisters to meet Santa." Niall lets out a whine, like just the idea is hurting him. "And we'll have Gems car anyways because she told me that we could take it to the party. So I can take Zayn and his sisters to the soup kitchen Saturday. It's _perfect_."

"How am I going to get home if we do your plan? And who says that I'm even going to the party?"

"Oh, you're going, H. Even if Gems and I have to tie you up and throw you in the trunk."

"Wait, how does Gemma know about this party, anyhow? I didn't tell her about it."

"Oh, H. You have to be quite naive if you truly believe she doesn't text me for updates on your life while she's away at Uni."

Harry pauses from where he was shrugging on his jacket to stare at Niall. _What?_ He knows that Gemma is a genuinely curious person, he's lived with her for seventeen years, of _course_ he knows how Gemma is and isn't all that surprised. But he figured that Gemma would just keep track of him via their mum. He didn't think that she'd still be talking to _Niall_ daily.

"That is so fucking odd." Harry informs Niall bluntly and pushes through the exit. The parking lot is mostly deserted, what with it being winter so hardly any sports are going on and with drama club running later than most of the other after school activites. "I thought that you guys stopped the.. whatever." Harry refuses to actually acknowledge the fact that Niall and Gemma used to be a thing for a little bit, because the whole entire four months that it lasted was _so bloody weird_.

"We're still friends, you know that. And we both worry about you not having enough fun during the one time in your life when you're allowed to have as much fun as possible. Which is why we better stop by that odd ended thrift store on our way back to your house. You're going to the party tomorrow, and I will not rest until we stick you into the ugliest Christmas sweater possible."

;;

Louis swings open the massive door to Grimmy's inordinately posh house with red cheeks, a loud laugh, and two crude cartoon reindeer with huge eyes standing in snow stitched onto his sweater that dwarfs his body. Louis paired the ensemble with a green elf hat and his delightful black skinnies with red and green argle socks pulled up over the cuffs. Harry actually forgets how to breathe for a solid few seconds while he pushes Niall and Harry into the warmth of the house. He helps Harry out of his trench coat and indugles Niall on talks of how shit driving conditions are tonight. Several voices are leaking out through the halls grouped with raucous laughter. Harry toes out of his boots and berates himself for actually falling for Niall, Gemma, and Louis' smiles and actually showing up to this party. He can't do this, he'll more than likely end up just awkwardly hugging the wall the whole time and making anyone that tries to chat to him feel completely like they're wasting time by trying to be kind to him. Would it be entirely rude of Harry to change his mind and turn back now when no one's seen him yet?

"You both brought your overnight bags, yeah? Grimmy set up like twenty air mattresses down in his basement for when we all crash." Harry nods and Niall holds their bags over his head with pride. "Ace, then. Follow me; everyone else is already here."

"Stay calm, they'll love you, H." Niall whispers after Louis gets ahead of them by a couple paces, leading them down long halls that bring them closer to the laughter and even some music. "And if they don't I'll pass some gas and then no one will think about you anymore."

"Like you would ever take the blame for it."

"For you," Niall pauses and puts his hand on his heart. "I would."

"If you lads have _quite_ finished," Louis interrupts them with an arched eyebrow and a hip cocked up against the open door to a lounge. "There is a party in here with people who would very much love to know more about you."

"I have a feeling that this 'party' is a lot less about all of us bonding and more of a freaky initiation ritual that you force all of the new kids to endure," Niall says but he claps Louis on the back nonetheless and nods at Harry to follow him before waltzing into the room just to be welcomed with cheers of his name.

"He might actually be the weirdest bloke ever." Louis tells Harry with faux-seriousness before breaking out into a smile and pulling at Harry's own ugly sweater. "I'm glad you made it. Liam kept telling me that you wouldn't, but, I didn't believe him. Because if there's one thing I'm aboslutely sure of in this universe, it is that Liam Payne is _always_ wrong."

"I heard that, Tommo!" Liam says from inside the lounge, Louis grabs Harry's wrist and drags him into the room. "Surely you won't be too surprised when your mic cuts off spontaneously on opening night."

The lounge is massive -of course- with a plethora of overstuffed love seats and couches and a flat screen that nearly takes up the entirety of the back wall, but there's so many people strewn about the couches and the floor that it almost makes the large space feel cramped. It takes him a moment to find Niall, who appears to be sat beside Zayn and is attracting a massive crowd of other set designers around him as he tells a story. It's probably the one about the time he was caught 'furiously wanking' in a hotel room by this random bird that somehow got his room key (that one is always his go to crowd pleaser).

"Like you'd do anything to thwart the performance of your _best_ actor." Louis snarks, smiling past the affronted ' _hey_ 's from some of the other actors. "Enough about our relationship, though. _Everybody_ ," Louis raises his voice and the chatter of the room pauses. Louis smiles and swings his arm around Harry's shoulder. It takes him a few moments to realize that Louis had to stand on his tiptoes just so that he could do so comfortably. He avidly tries to not stare down at Louis like a besotted fool, but the way that his lips are stretching out into a smile all on its own accord tells him that he's already failing.

"Everyone, this is Harry. He's in my year and you probably don't recognize him without his shirt half open. He doesn't talk much but he's lovely, and he works for Caroline in wardrobe. He is my favorite and you must all treat him kindly." Louis nods at himself and pinches Harry's cheek. "And if you're rude, then Liam will fire you. Thats all, now, proceed!"

Quite a bit of people smile and nod at him in welcome, a few monotone "Hi, Harry." like they're in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and Niall lets out a whoop and informs everyone in his tiny circle quite loudly that "That's my best mate." before everyone turns back to laughing at nothing with their small circles of people.

"I'm going to go terrorize Li a bit. You in?"

"I.." Harry chances a quick glance over at Niall, who is now wrapped up in what looks like an exciting, in depth conversation with Zayn. They're pressed up against each other from thigh to thigh. It's quite cute, in all honesty, he doesn't want to disturb that. Also, if he decides to stay around Louis, then he might keep his arm around Harry's shoulder. "I think I'll come with you, if that's okay?"

Louis smiles broadly at him. "Of course it is, mate."

Liam and a few others have commandeered one of the largest overstuffed couches in the middle of the room, but they shuffle over to give Louis and Harry a place to sit with warm smiles. Harry recognizes most of them, seeing as they're huge personalities in the school, but there's a few well-dressed people he can't remember the name of. Louis takes Harry down on the couch with him, keeping the welcome weight of his warm arm still slung over his own shoulder. They sit extremely close together and Harry regrets pulling his hair up in a bun because now his flushed cheeks are out for the entire world to see.

"Harry, mate, how's Caroline treating you?" Liam asks kindly after he and Louis have settled in.

"Great, she's great."

"That's good, then.. So, Lou, have you started conditioning for footie yet?"

Louis lets out a strangled groan and begins rambling about the woes of sprints and weight-lifting, getting so into his tirade that he winds up moving his arm from around Harry's shoulder just to talk with his hands more. Harry mourns the loss of the contact but is totally okay with watching the collar of Louis' ugly sweater slowly slipping down to reveal his jutted collar bones and the obscene line of his neck.

"So, Harold, is it? Where've you been my whole life?" Grimmy smiles at him, prominent cheekbones hollowing aggressively when he smiles at him.

"I sit behind you in Calc." Harry says before he can stop himself. "Sometimes you act like you're smelling your armpit just so that you can copy off of me."

"Oh my _god_ ," Nick snaps his fingers and pushes out a quick chuckle. "You're Hipster Harry, the one with all of the band shirts and layered flannels. I thought that you were a mute."

"Uhm..yeah."

The next five minutes are genuinelly uncomfortable for him after that. Louis is still entertaining Liam and a few others with the merciless drills that his coach puts the team through and he isn't sure how to join in on the conversation, and Nick starts enthralling the others that have no interest in the footie team with the great tale of planning this get together. Harry shifts in his seat and glances around to see if he can spot anyone -Ed, Niall, Caroline, he doesn't mind- that he can latch onto just so that he can stop feeling like he's choking on the words that he should say but just _can't._ He feels like an intruder, sitting with all of these undeniably cool people that mesh so well together while all he can do is add awkward chuckles in and hope that they don't start cracking jokes about him as soon as he leaves.

"And then my mum got this 'amazing' idea to sit out supplies for Christmas biscuits, in case anyone is struck with the sudden desire to bake for over fifty people." Nick informs his small band of listeners and Harry exhales a breath that he didn't know he was holding. That's perfect. He can get out of this cramped room and fall into the mind numbing motions of baking, and maybe even make some people smile if they eat it. "I, of course, told her-"

Harry doesn't listen to the rest of Nick's monolouge, opting to instead roam through random hallways that are brandished with Grimmy's smiling face at all kinds of different ages. He walks into the open kitchen that's decked out with sleek, clean appliances, white cabinets, and a massive marble island in the middle that houses all kinds of baking supplies already sat out. There's even some aprons hanging with massive Christmas trees and snowflakes printed all over it. Harry slides one on and sorts through the ingredients. Grimmy's mum was pretty meticulous with it, practically thinking of everything, she even has nutmeg and ground peppermint sitting out. Harry breaths through his nose and cracks a real smile; the voices of all of the others are blissfully distant, now, nothing more than a continuous hum with occasional loud bark of laughter. And he's the only inhabitant of the kitchen so he feels like he can actually breathe without the fear of being judged or seen as just this huge, awkward person. There's a reason why he tries to make himself unnoticable in school.

He's just planting the mixer in some dough for sugar cookies when someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns to see Louis looking up at him, smiling sheepishly. From this close up, Harry can see the small freckles rained across the bridge of Louis' nose and the small patch of hair that he must've missed while shaving on the left side of his jaw. His elf hat is slipping back on his head even further now, revealing odd bits of his fringe and Harry wouldn't mind staying this close to Louis for the rest of his life.

"What're you doing here?" Louis asks, his eyes soft. Like he's worried, or something.

"I felt a little overwhelmed in there." Harry says, and it's the truth. All of the people in there was just stressing him out for really no particular reason at all.

"That doesn't mean that you have to _bake_ , Harry. Grimmy might act it, but the world really _doesn't_ work for him." Louis arches his eyebrow and dips his thumb into Harry's dough, sticking it into his mouth and humming appreciatively. That image is definitely going to stick with Harry forever. Seriously. Christ.

"I like to bake," Harry defends, cheeks slowly filling with heat under Louis' unwavering gaze. "I work at a bakery, even. It calms me down."

"I know, you made my sister some cupcakes once for her birthday. They were ace, by the way." Louis turns away when he tells Harry this, digging through a random cabinet. "So you really want to bake, then? This isn't just you running away because I embarrassed you by telling everyone who you are?"

"What? _No_. Louis, that was actually very kind of you to do, thank you. It's just that there was so much going on in there, and I needed to take a break. I also really like baking, so."

"Well if you're completely sure that this is what you want to do, then, put this on." Louis says from where he has completely crawled into the cupboard and has been rooting around.

"Put _what_ on?"

"This," Louis stands up with flushed cheeks and tosses an actual chef's hat at Harry. He gestures empathatically at it until Harry takes down his bun and shoves it on. Louis tosses his elf hat over his shoulder and onto the floor and shoves on an even taller version of the one that Harry has on with a satisfied smile. He looks so bloody _odd_ and _quirky_ that Harry finds himself so hopelessly endeared that he can't even _breathe_. Louis Tomlinson is the most unfair human being. Ever. It's a fact. Harry _might_ have a crush on him. "There, we look like right professionals. Now we can bake. What are we baking?"

"Uh," Harry looks down at his feet -that are cloaked in fuzzy socks with tiny Santa's adorned all over them- and chuckles. "Peppermint sugar cookies?"

"Peppermint sugar- _Christ_ , Hazzah, that's awfully gourmet. Let's get to it, then. What do you need me to do?" Louis takes the other apron and slides it on, tying it hastily to his back.

"You don't have to do anything, Lou."

"I want to do something. See what all of this baking hype is about."

"You can whisk some eggs together, if you'd like?"

"Alright. The whisk is the wand thing, yeah?"

Harry barks out one of his seal laughs, "Yeah."

They're silent for a bit, besides the sounds of Louis slamming random bowls around and humming _Santa, Baby_ under his breath. Usually, Harry isn't a fan of people being around him while he bakes. He feels like he's being crowded and watched and it doesn't really allow him to sink down into his element. But baking around Louis is an entirely new experience, with Louis brushing up against his arm randomly and shooting Harry quick, encouraging smiles. Everything with Louis is exciting, and he's not completely sure on how he feels about that. (He does, it feels radiant, like the sun has taken root in his chest.)

"Harry, I'm about to ask you something, and it's going to sound really dumb." Louis speaks up randomly, only shocking Harry a little. "But, how do you whisk?"

The laugh that breaks out of his chest even startles Harry, himself. He covers Louis' hand with his own, definitely _not_ thinking about how his chest is pressed against Louis' lithe back, and guides Louis' small hand in quick, stirring motions.

"You just.. whisk." Harry explains totally un-helpfully and begrudgingly lets go of Louis' hand that just _fits_ in his own after the eggs are sufficiently beaten.

"Ha-ha, that explains nothing." Louis' cheek bones are highlighted with this lovely dusted pink when he looks back at him, and Harry feels so irrationally fond of him. "So how long will this take?"

"We're nearly done," Harry promises.

"That's a shame, I was looking forward to spending hours in a good smelling room with you."

"You don't have to say that," Harry picks at a loose thread on his sweater, a red one from Santa's jolly nose. "Like. You should be spending time with your mates. Having fun."

"I _am_ having fun, Harry. Don't put yourself down like that." Louis taps Harry on the noise, getting some of the peppermint icing they've made on the very end of it. "If I wasn't thoroughly enjoying your company, then I wouldn't be here. Simple as that. I enjoy you, Curly, deal with it."

;;

Harry dealt with it. With a probably embarrassingly large smile on his face and flushed cheeks from the heat of the oven. Louis' laugh was practically on constant repeat at certain points, and Harry just feels so insanely happy even though he was on the brinks of a freak out just a mere hour ago. Louis just has this power to make the rest of the world melt away and for Harry's mind to just zero in on his smile and his laugh. He is literal sunshine, and Harry wants to bathe himself in it. Never let it go. Which is insane because they hardly even know each other. But it's happening; and Harry's accepting it. Even if Louis does not, and probably will never, feel the same.

After spending fifteen minutes unceremoniously shoving cookies into their gobs, with Louis making intense moaning sounds at them while Harry shifted around and forced himself to not get hard from, Louis led Harry down to the basement, where he claimed it was less cramped and filled with people that Harry more or less knows already.

He's automatically relieved when they turn into one of the media rooms of the basement just to see Niall sprawled out over the floor while Zayn Malik gleefully tries to toss crisps into his mouth, Liam and Perrie cheering them on all the while. He's generally confused, because he thought that cool, socially deft people would do more amusing things during their down time, things like calling the Queen of England and hanging around with rising bands. He's oddly enthralled that these people, the ones that are looked upon with reverence by the general population of the school, are still humans at the end of it all.

"Harry made cookies!" Louis screams by way of a greeting and all of the eyes in the room automatically snap to them; Niall's mouth even slams shut, cutting off the crisp that Zayn threw from entering.

Harry holds up the massive plate of cookies like a sacrifice, and Niall is standing in front of him before he can even blink, grabbing two handfuls of cookies and returning back to his perch on the shag carpet floor. The others take the cookies greedily, as well, and Harry winds up sitting on yet another plush couch between Niall and Louis, biting back laughter as Louis wills Netflix to load some Christmas movies up on Nick's massive flat screen.

"So you two disappeared to bake cookies?" Liam asks after a bit around a mouthful. "Pez and I just figured that you two were off-"

"Ha-ha, Liam, you're so funny I nearly piss myself everytime." Louis cuts him off, using his free hand to cuff him over the back of the head, throwing Niall into to stitches of laughter.

"How'd you know where to find us?" Zayn asks.

"You always end up at the same place at the same time every year. It wasn't that hard to figure out. There, now we're talking. _Love, Actually_ counts as a Christmas movie, right?"

Harry has to bite back his blissed out his smile at that, _Louis is actually perfect_ , he clears his throat before saying, "I don't see why it wouldn't be."

The rest of the night goes like that, with the odd person drifting in and out to chat with them. Ed even shows up and bonds with him over how their sweaters match. The night is actually pretty lovely. He wouldn't mind doing it again one time. The five of them -Niall, Zayn, Louis, Liam, and himself- all begin to wear down at around three in the morning. They all decide to opt out of the sleeping room with all of the air mattresses to instead get a bunch of blankets and having a cuddle pile in front of the telly. It's grand, even with Liam snoring like a bear, Niall's pointy elbows, and Louis wrapping around him like a clingy octopus.

;;

The next drama practice begins with Jade and Leigh grilling him on how he's gotten so close to Louis and if they're a _thing_ or not until Ed takes pity on him and claims that he needs Harry's long arms to reach one of the fabrics that's on the top shelf.

"And why, pray tell, would you need this?" Harry holds up the offending neon colored fabric and Ed raises his hands in defense.

"I don't. I just thought that your face was about to burn off, so I decided to save you."

"Such a great thing of you to do. They're _crazy_."

"Yeah, well, you love us." Ed ruffles Harry's hair lovingly and pats him on the back, beginning to walk off. "By the way, I thought you and Tommo were quite cute at the party."

Ed leaves Harry fishmouthing until Niall comes and practically tackles Harry with his excitement. He's been on top of the world ever since the day after the party, claiming that his day spent with Zayn and his little sisters was 'So fecking magical, mate, Zayn is the best person to exist _ever_.' Niall was excited the entire day, sending him inexplicable text messages and various snapchats of his smiling gob that Harry fielded on his way home thanks to a ride from Louis, who spent the drive singing Michael Buble's Christmas songs as loudly as humanly possible. Harry's insanely happy for him even though he and Zayn aren't a specified _thing_ yet.

"Take me home and fill me with hot cocoas, please." Niall whines and pulls on Harry's shirt. "It's so bloody _cold_ here, can't stand it."

"Fine, we'll leave."

Harry and Niall spend the rest of the night procastinating on their homework and revision and opt to instead watch Christmas movies with Gemma -whose already out on break because Uni's always let out insanely early- who tries to pry Harry's phone out of his hand every time that a text comes in from Louis, which Harry doesn't allow. All in all, it's a pretty good night.

;;

Dressing rehearsels come way sooner than expected, and it's terrifyingly stressful for Harry. He's been working on his pieces for months, practically living by the sewing machine at some points, and he felt pretty confident about the finished products when they were on the hangers, but when it comes to his actors actually _wearing_ the costumes, he's petrified. What if absolutely none of the costumes hang right on the actors' bodies? What if the seams are actually weakly put together and he won't know until it's too late? Louis has a pretty sizeable bum, one that Harry ogles more than what should be strictly necessary for mates. He also thinks about Louis' bum more than what should be strictly necessary -it's not his fault that he's noted that Louis' bum could fit perfectly into one of Harry's hands (and that Harry's bum could fit perfectly into Louis' hand, which is basically grounds for establishing them as probable soul mates)- but that's not the point. The problem is that Louis' sizable bum has the potential to rip apart the costumes that Harry's worked tirelessly to sew. If one of his costumes rip apart tonight, not only will he feel like a dissappointment to Caroline and the others who have all taken him under their wing over the past few months, but he'll also be so bloody embarrassed that he'd probably never show his face to the theater world again, and he's starting to _like_ this place. Even _Grimmy_ is growing on him, surprisingly.

His first two actors -just extras to fill in space during the scenes when Scrooge is out in the village or at his posh parties- were easy enough to dress. They didn't look _too_ horrible and nothing ripped, but Harry still begged them to not do anything crazy and risk tearing the fabric.

"Harry, Hazzah, how's my favorite costume designer doing?" Louis asks through the material of the jumper he is currently shedding unabashedly. Harry's mouth goes dry at the smattering of chest hair sprinkled over Louis' lithe torso. He forces his eyes away out of common decency and sifts through the rack until he finds the costumes he sit aside for him, with Louis' name printed neatly on the pink notecard over the hangers in his own hand.

"Nervous," Harry mumbles and turns back to see Louis just standing there in only his pants. Harry drops the costumes in his hands and isn't even sorry. How can you be _tan_ during Christmas in _England_? How can you have thighs like that _and_ a chiselled stomach? "Oh come _on_."

"Uhm, sorry?" Louis' eyebrows scrunch adorablly and Harry's face is on actual fire. He shoves the clothes into his awaiting hands.

"Sorry," Harry exhales and busies himself with roving through the racks, looking for nothing and wondering where everyone else _went_. "It's just your.. Body, thing, that you have going on. It's highly unfair. I wasn't prepared for _that_." Harry flaps his hand in the general direction of where Louis is standing, probably still half-naked and unknowingly giving Harry a surplus of images for his wank bank.

" _What?_ Harry you do know what you look like, right?"

It should be kind of funny, really, the way that Harry's heart sinks so lowly down in his chest at an alarmingly quick rate.

"Not like _that,_ Haz." Louis tacks on, like he's actually living in Harry's thoughts. "I just mean that you're insanely fit. Even if you do dress like my Gran, sometimes. If anyone's unfair here, then it's you."

The air in the costume shop is sufficiently awkward, with the bustle of the pre-dressing rehearsal jitters leaking in from other pieces of the backstage. Harry is drilling holes into the floor with his eyes while the blush from his cheeks slowly branches down his chest. Louis Tomlinson just told him he was fit, he's allowed to be a little tongue-tied. He has to tell Gemma and Niall about this as soon as possible.

"I put this on first, right?" Louis breaks the silence, waving the commoners clothes that Harry spent weeks on sewing because the seam would just _not_ work for him for the longest time.

Harry nods and helps Louis into it, trying to not press his hands to Louis' caramel skin to see if it's warm as it looks. He suceeds, barely. His lack of self control is actually really embarassing. Louis contorts himself into odd angles, jutting his bum out and furrowing his brows cutely at his reflection. He puffs his chest out and ruffles his fringe, he might actually be a woodland animal, in all honesty, before smiling at Harry in the mirror.

"You outdid yourself, Haz. I was quite smart for forcing Liam to make you a costume designer."

"You didn't force Liam into anything. Both you and I know that Caroline was so desparate for an extra set of hands that she probably would've paid someone off the streets to help."

"Are you denying the fact that I am a genuis who has a great intuition about things when it comes to pretty boys with big eyes?" Louis balks, affronted.

 _Pretty boys with big eyes_ , Harry nearly bites off his own tongue in his shock. Niall is absolutely going to _piss_ his pants when Harry tells him about this (he announced himself as their captain a couple weeks ago, claiming that he won't be able to rest easily until Louis and Harry fall together in a mess of limbs). Harry has nearly let himself believe that Louis actually might fancy him after the hours long monologues he's released at the dinner table when he stayed for tea, rambling about how Louis "Always has his sodding hands buried in Harry's hair or tweaking his cheeks. It's like he's obsessed with H's _face_ , of all things. And if anyone _else_ tries to touch him, Louis is ready to tear off a hand. I think he actually slapped Liam across the face for pinching Harry's cheek, the other day." And Gemma, of course, has eaten it all up, demanding that Harry dispel every thing that Louis has told him over the course of the school day, she's even more invested now that she's cut ties with the freaky bloke with the odd mustache.

"No," Harry touches Louis' collar bones, under the guise of adjusting his neckline, he simply can't help it. The jut of it is absolutely obscene, Harry was smart for going with the plunging cut of it. "I'm just saying that you can be quite cocky at times."

Louis yanks gently at one of Harry's curly bits. "Take it back."

"Never," He bares his teeth at him before breaking out into giggles, he's cute as a button, really, with his disorderly fringe and mirthful eyes. "Now, let's get going. Liam will have my arse if I make you late to the pep talk again."

"Right, of course." They stand for a moment, doing the thing that they've been doing a lot lately, wherein they just pause everything and stare in each other's eyes and smile soppily. Harry always uses that time to bask in the glow that Louis gives off, to hurriedly remember everything about it -the crinkles in his eyes, the lone piece of his fringe slowly dipping down his forehead, his pointy teeth, the way his lips stretch to thin smatterings of pink, how his tiny nose scrunches up to be even smaller - before it all dissapears and the world stops spinning too fast and the room dims just a little. "Be a doll and escort me to center stage, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry breathes and hooks his arm in Louis'.

The stage is in an absolute frenzy as the bouts of the dry tech comes to a close. Liam and Perrie are ordering around stagehands and helping them block out the proper places for the first scene's props. In the corner by one of the fabricated old book shelves, Zayn and Niall are meticulously placing 'dust-ridden' books on a bookshelf while laughing at something with their heads hunched together. Their hands and shoulders keep brushing against one another's not so subtly. Harry feels insanely happy that Niall actually stuck to Operation Adonis and hasn't gotten distracted by another person and went after someone else instead (which Niall is prone to doing, attention span of a goldfish, that one has). And Niall's efforts actually appear to be _working_ , if the way that Zayn keeps looking at Niall like he made the sun is anything to go by.

"How long do you think until they pull their heads out of their arses and snog each other's faces off?" Louis asks Harry, tilting his head at them, where Zayn is now gleefully poking at Niall's nipples and belly button while Niall preens like a besotted fool. Harry's not too surprised, Niall's always been an odd one.

"What do you mean?"

Louis nods and yanks Harry by the arm, "Come help me terrorize them. Z looks hilarious when he starts to blush, you won't want to miss it."

Even though Harry has been working with the drama club for a few solid months now, he's still hardly set foot on the actual stage. So when he follows Louis onto the front stage, he's struck with aggressively bright lights beaming into his eyes. He stupidly stares up at them for a bit, looking ito the slightly terrifying abyss of technical wires and lights with the few odd platforms all hidden in the blackness of it. He drags his eyes back down and towards Louis, who is currently shaking out his trouser leg and swaying with excitement. He's so painfully in his element that Harry wants to bash his own head in. Louis is almost as devastatingly bright as the stage lights, with the spotlights casting golden edges on his skin and making his already dazzling eyes an even more vibrant shade of blue.

"Alright, Haz?" Louis' inquisitive smile spreads across his features slowly.

Harry swallows, "Yeah. So terrorizing Niall and Zayn, then?"

"Oh, Harry, I hope you know that that's a lot like pillow talk to a lad like me." Louis wiggles his eyebrows pointedly and holds out his hand for Harry to take. He absolutely does not marvel at how well they fit in together, because he's not in _that_ deep with Louis, yet. "How do you feel about telling Niall that he has to fill in for one of the actors' slots today?"

"I'm in." _I'd do anything you ask of me if you keep holding my hand like this_.

They really meant to prank Niall, but Liam interrupted their well thought out plan of debauchery by plucking Louis by the collar of his costume and forcibly dragging him to some actors' meeting that he is supposedly already fifteen minutes late for. He still does make his way over to the flirting pair, though, and is immediatelly dragged into a fond headlock by Niall, while Zayn looks on with an arched brow and an intimidating look of cool disinterest.

"What was all of that with Tommo? _Hand holding_?" Niall asks, pinching one of Harry's nipple like the _bastard_ that he is. "Have you taken things to a further level than texting nonstop and haven't informed me? Do I need to give him a speech about not touching a precious curl on your head?"

"Oh, bugger off." Harry softly punches Niall in the gut and shoots a smile at Zayn. "Hey, mate."

"Hey," Zayn says softly, eyes tracking Niall as he throws himself over Harry's back. Harry takes his weight with practiced ease. "Harry, yeah?"

"Oh, Zaynie. You don't have to act cool for H, here. He's watched over fifty Christmas films in the past week just like you." Niall ruffles Harry's hair pointedly and Zayn's mouth pulls up in this blinding smile that makes Harry wonder what sort of witchcraft one has to do to get a face like _that_.

"Christmas movies have the best plots, and you know it." Zayn defends. "Not including Marvel movies, of course."

"Of course."

Harry awkwardly holds Niall up and stands in the middle of the odd-telapathic-flirty-smile-thing that Zayn and Niall are enveloped in for the next few moments. He doesn't want to interrupt, or else Niall might shave half of Harry's head the next time he stays over, so he just shifts his weight and lets it happen.

"Everyone that isn't a stagehand please clear the stage," Liam -thankfully- breaks them apart while clapping his hands. "We're about to get this dressing rehearsal going, and I wan't everyone to act like this is actually Opening Night. All of the section leaders -aside from Pez, of course- please come speak to me for a quick briefing."

Zayn bids them adiue with a two-fingered salute and saunters away, and the stagehands, decked out in their all black kits, come storming on with various props in their hands. Niall kicks Harry in the back of the knee lightly and points forward, using the other hand to yank his hair.

"Onward, my brave steed."

Harry makes what's supposed to be a horse sound, runs off the stage and away from the headache-inducing lights. He lets Niall slide off his back beside Liam's little podium that's placed methodically in the wings. Someone has slowly started to kill the main lights of the auditorium and wings, so Niall's smile is illuminated only by the blue light on Liam's podium that's only there just so that he can read the script as the play goes on. Perrie can be heard from the stage, ordering around her stagehands with a brash sort of excitement that seems to be infecting everyone today.

"So how's it going, H?" Niall leans an elbow against the podium,

"Alright. Louis told me that he thought I was fit."

" _No_ ," Niall slaps the podium excitedly and jumps where he stands. "Tell me everything."

"I said it first, in a way. But he returned the sentiment and I am actually _buzzing_. Louis Tomlinson called me fit, this cannot possibly be real life."

"Thought you said you didn't have a crush."

"I didn't. I only knew that he was attractive, back then. But now I know how funny he is and did you know that his phone lockscreen is one of him and all of his siblings? He told me that he loves all of them equally, but he's insanely to have a baby brother now. Anyways, he's just so _kind_ , y'know. He's never rude to anyone, but he also doesn't take shit from _anyone_. And he believes in gender equality and he likes The Script and have you _heard_ his voice?"

"I've heard it, Harry. He never shuts up."

"But I could listen to his stories all day, you see. The only bad part about him is that the entire world is as equally enthralled with him as I am. And I'm just _Harry_ , the bloke with one friend and all the weird hats."

"You're so much more than that, H. And just because you're shy doesn't make you any less important than anyone else." Niall cuffs him lightly over the head. "And you're an idiot for not thinking more of yourself. Also, I'm pretty sure that Louis fancies you, too."

He doesn't know what to say to that, so he forces Niall into an embrace and nuzzles his hair that is only slightly caked in weird smelling product. "I love you, Nialler."

"Love you too, H."

Someone coughs pointedly from behind them, and they detach slowly to be met with Liam's big puppy eyes and Zayn's furrowed brows. It's unfair, really, the amount of fit people in this school.

"We're in your way aren't we?" Liam nods slowly, mouth slightly open. "Right, well, I might as well go find Caroline and get ready for everything." Harry scuffs his boots backwards for a second and tacks on an awkward " _Byye_ ," and getting the fuck out, all of the eyes on him made him feel tetchy.

The rehearsal goes well, from what Harry can see from the wings. His actors get undressed and redressed easily enough, only one person is in need of a quick taking in and Louis adamantly refuses to use the privacy screen to change, which consequently leads to Harry accidentally stabbing one of the nice, soft spoken actresses with one of his needles because he might have been staring at the dimples placed at the bottom of Louis' spine. The only difficulty doesn't happen until the end, when Louis rips his trousers right down the middle of the back while bending down to retrieve a fallen pen for one of Liam's many assistants. Louis, of course, takes all of the laughter aimed at him in stride, cracking a quick joke about how having an arse like his actually does have some cons, Harry, on the other hand, throws himself into panic attack as soon as he sees the torn seam exposing Louis' broadly rainbow striped boxer briefs. Mostly everyone else has already bundled up to brave the harsh snowfall and are leaving, but Harry is currently pulling at his own hair as he watches Louis saunter towards him, not bothering to cover his bum because he actually does not have any modesty at all.

"Hey, Curly, don't torture your hair like that. That's all you've got going for you."

"I am so _sorry_ ," Harry wheezes, not even noticing when someone shoves him just so that they can get past. He's too busy looking at Louis' bum for reasons that aren't entirely just for when he has alone time. "I knew that I should have went further than a triple stitch, or maybe used a better thread, but I rushed it and now they're torn and I am so _sorry_ , I swear that I'll fix it. Even I have to stay here all night."

"Hey, don't put yourself down like that. Things like this happen all of the time; it's theatre." Louis slides a consoling hand into Harry's hair, smiling soft. "Don't worry about it, you can fix it tomorrow."

"I can absolutely not wait until tomorrow, it's opening _night_. I have to spend the entire day steaming everything and I can't take up the sewing machine all day to work on your trousers and Caroline is probably so dissapointed in me-"

"Okay, take a deep breath, alright? Mostly everyone has left already," Louis tells him, hand waving at the now-empty backstage without taking his concerned gaze off Harry. "Are you sure you want to stay?"

"Yes," of course he wants to stay, he has to fix this. He can't believe that this has happened.

"I can hear your mind working overdrive, stop that." Louis pinches Harry's bicep gently. He's being so gentle to Harry in every way, radiating genuine care in the ways that his eyebrows are sloped downwards and his mouth is puckered at the sides, even his eyes seem to have muted themselves, like they knew the sincerity of the situation and acclimated to it. If Harry wasn't fraying at the edges of panic-addled mind, he would be thinking of ways to record the soft, lilting tone of Louis' voice to set it as his ringtone, maybe even play it on repeat everynight before he falls asleep. "If you're staying here to fix it, then I am, too. Because it's partially my fault as well. Well, my bum's fault, but, semantics."

Harry gives a weak laugh, Louis smiles at him, lighting his mood a bit, because Louis Tomlinson is actually sunshine and anyone that disagrees just isn't too bright.

The costume shop is an absolute wreck. Clothes racks shoved haphazardly from the rush that everyone probably was in to leave, open take out boxes strewn about, and a putrid smell that is resultant from how Leigh doused the entire room in perfume in a futile attempt to cloak the scent of the Thai food that they were all stress-eating before dressing rehearsals began. Louis shucks off his trousers and folds them up before handing them to Harry. He makes to sit down in just his rainbow pants and costume tunic, and Harry lets out a sound of panic sound.

"Oh, should I take this off? To not wrinkle it?" Louis pulls at the neck of the shirt and Harry nearly chokes on his tongue in distress.

"Trousers, Lou, you need to put on _trousers_." Harry grabs a rolling chair and plants himself in it. "I mean, it'd be nice of you to not wrinkle the shirt, either, but you have to wear clothes or else I won't be able to focus on shite."

"Oh," Louis actually has the audacity to pout for a moment before walking to the corner of the room where he stashed his duffel bag full of clothes. Harry forces himself to look away and inspect the -actually not _too_ awful- tear on the costume trousers. "You're an odd one, Styles."

"Not the first time I've heard that," Harry murmurs, flicking on the sewing machine.

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something that kind of pretains to that."

" _Pretains_. Oh, Lou, quite a vocabulary you've got on you."

"Oh, bugger off." He feels more than sees Louis slide a chair right next to Harry's, only blushing a little when he hooks a tinier foot around Harry's ankle. "This is a serious question, put your serious face on."

Harry forces his lips to fold in on themselves, and Louis tweaks his cheek. He nearly shoves his hand under the fast-moving the needle in reaction. Louis is a dangerous hazard, really.

"That's more of a frog face, really, but I'll take it. Now let me ask my question. What is the reason behind you always blocking yourself off from everyone else? Like, you dress differently with your band shirts and tight jeans and fedoras, which practically meets all of the requirements to hang out with people like Grimmy, but you never talk to anyone. Besides Niall."

"I don't know what to say," Harry shrugs. "Like, everyone around me seems to know what to say and how to act when meeting new people. It's like they innately know how to make friends. I don't - I just can't understand that, how people can put themselves out there and make other people laugh. It's like everyone was given a class on the proper way to make friends, and I guess I just never received that. It's not like a superiority complex, or summat. It's just that I'm not sure how to convey to others that I'm not a weird person and that I'd like to be their mates. I'm just.. _odd_ , I like music from bands that are so obscure that literally knows about them, I like to have my shirts unbuttoned halfway down my chest, and I like to wear fedoras and headscarves. I'm just being _me_ , and being me includes not being socially savvy. I've accepted it a long time ago, so I don't try anymore."

"You're not _odd_ , you're delightfully quirky and unreasonably brave. I wish I had the nads to wear sparkly boots to school for no apparent reason. You like what you like and I think that that's cool. I'm not saying that you should change or anything, I just want to know more about you. And the things that I _do_ know about you, I quite enjoy. I'm glad that we speak to one another. More people should do the same."

"I enjoy speaking to you, too. But you wouldn't have started if it wasn't for Niall."

"Lies, we've spoken way before this. In secondary, we did a photography project together and you had this thing for the sepia filter. In Year Nine, I sat by you at lunch and tried to talk to you about the band that was on your shirt, but you just got up and walked away before I could finish my sentence. Last year, I tried to ask you to the dance, but you just laughed in my face and said 'Bye' before I could do it properly. Actually, up until the past few months, I was quite sure you hated my guts."

" _No_." Harry kicks off the sewing machine in a haste and moves his seat to look Louis in the eyes. He does not remember any of that. "I do not remember _any_ of that."

Louis chuckles nervously and fiddles with his fringe, "Well, it happened. I had the biggest bloody crush on you for the longest time."

 _Had_. Past tense. "Oh."

"Don't look so disgusted by it!" Louis twists Harry's nipple, effectively pulling him out of his downward spiral. "I'm not _that_ savage looking."

"No, I wasn't meaning it like that. You're right fit, Lou. I just can't believe- I was so sure that you didn't even know that I existed until a couple months ago."

"Of course I noted you, Haz," Louis says softly. "How could I not? You're.. _you_."

The air is being slowly sapped out of the room, making his lungs feel like there's an iron fist slowly constricting it in a steely grip. They've been leaning into each other the entire time, Harry can make out the tiny sprinkles rained over Louis' nose and he can count his long eyelashes from this proximity. Louis' breath is hitting his chin in an exciting, peppermint smelling swirl. Harry, himself, hasn't let out a single puff of air for the entire exchage. It's like there's a magnet with opposite poles placed in each of them, dragging them together subconciously, and Harry's waiting in eagerness and bated breath for the inevitable clash, mind flipping over how soft lips will probably be, how he's actually going to _kiss_ Louis.

"Oh," A voice that most definitely isn't Louis' scratchy, high one says. They break apart from the almost-kiss like a rubber band that's stretched too thin. Liam Payne is standing in the threshold with his almighty and always-there clip board tucked against his chest. "I didn't know that anyone else was still here."

"Well," Louis' voice cracks in a way that nearly makes Harry fill up in his trousers. "There are. _Christ_ , Liam, you gave me a fright."

"Sorry," Liam's mouth turns down and he looks like such a chastised puppy that Harry can't even find it in him to feel angry that Liam literally just stopped one of his dreams from coming true. "I was just checking everything before I-"

" _Attention all students and faculty that might still be present at this time. I am sorry to inform you that we are having a sanctioned lockdown due to the harsh effects of the ongoing blizzard. The Board has decided that the best way to ensure the safety of everyone is to not allow people on the roads. We will release in the morning after the salt trucks have ensured that the roads are once again safe_."

"Left. But, nevermind, it seems. I guess we're having a slumber party." Liam raises his arm in what is probably a failed attempt to lighten the mood. Louis scoffs at him. "Actually, Lou, I've been meaning to have a word with you. Do you mind if I steal him from you, Harry?"

Harry opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head. Too much has happened in the past few minutes for him to understand. Louis raises from his seat and follows Liam out of the shop. Harry turns back to fixing the trousers.

The repair is actually quite easy, Harry was stressing over nothing it seems, but that's old hat for him. He does make sure to reinforce the seam as much as he possibly can, though. Maybe he'll even advise Louis to not wear such loud pants tomorrow, just in case if there is another tear again, then at least the audience wouldn't be able to notice. He takes a moment to mentally steel himself before leaving the costume shop, nabbing one of Caroline's mints that she keeps in one of the vintage dressers before paving his way through the catacombs of backstage. He follows the sounds of voices, but instead of finding Louis and Liam doing whatver Louis and Liam do while they're alone -terrorize each other or compare their sizable biceps, probably- he finds Niall and Zayn painting their faces with a bright, lime green paint while giggling at each other kittenishly.

"Well," Harry says after watching them for a bit. "This is an odd method of foreplay."

" _Harry_. You're stuck here, too!" Niall beams and pulls Harry in for a hug, smearing the paint on his forehead onto Harry's chin. "Have you texted Gems, yet? She's sent me over fifty messages asking me about your whereabouts."

"Oh, no." Harry frowns at himself and coaxes his phone out from his tight back pocket.

 **Harry Styles** to **Gemma Styles** [ _6:59 PM_ ]

_snowed in at school. winter wonderlands are gr8._

**Gemma Styles** to **Harry Styles** _[ 7:00 PM ]_

_way to go, frog face. be safe. kick niall in the shins for me._

"She said to kick you in the shins," Harry tells Niall. "If she asks, I actually did it."

"Will do." Niall turns to Zayn. "Harry's sister. I shagged her once-"

"Shut up, that's so _weird_."

"She looks just like you. Take it as a compliment."

"That's even weirder. And what have I told you about talking about women like they're objects?"

"Sorry, mate."

"R _ii_ ght," Zayn says, wiping at the splatters of paint on his face, missing completely. "Let's go find the others. Oh, and Niall? Please don't ever shag my sisters."

Harry let's out a delighted cackle, swinging his arm around and dragging a befuddled Niall to follow him. "Oh, he's funny. I see why you like him besides his Adonis-ness now."

"Shut up, H."

"Never ever." Harry smacks a wet kiss on Niall's cheek, earning another eyebrow raise from Zayn.

Louis and Liam are settled on blankets that Harry has seriously no idea where they've gotten from at center stage. Thankfully, the spotlights have been turned off and the entire theatre is now only illuminated by the low lights on the sides of the walls and the strips of LED lights at the very edge of the stage, throwing everything in a sepia-tinged hue. It does wonders for Louis' skin color, making him look so beauitfully enethreal that Harry wants to sit down and stare at him for the rest of his life. When the three of them sit down, Louis shoots Harry a smile that doesn't reach his eyes like how they usually do, and Zayn quickly settles on his other side so that Harry can't sit beside him. His heart does absolutely not plummet at that. Niall, takes notice, of course, and slings a comforting arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Well," Liam says slowly. "If we're going to be stuck here all night, we might as well get to know each other better."

That, of course, sets them all off into describing their family lives -both Harry and Louis divulge that their biological parents have divorced, music tastes -which prompts Harry to sheepishly put on a soft playlist that has all of them bopping their heads even just a little even if he's the only one who actually knows the lyrics-, least favorite classes, their plans after college, and their favorite video games. After conversing with the lot, he's come to the conclusion that Liam is just as endearingly genuine as he appears, Zayn is actually an extremely lovely human once he's warmed up to the people that he is around, and Louis is acting unexplicably distant to Harry for no apparent reason. He's hardly initiating conversation with Harry and hasn't made a single excuse to touch him, as opposed to how Louis usually can't go more than five minutes with Harry without shoving his face into Harry's curls or fiddling with Harry's dimples. Harry's decidedly not moping about it, but the comforting nuzzles that Niall offers him are more than welcome.

They talk for what seems like minutes but ends up being hours, even with the unforeseen awkwardness with Louis, Harry feels like the five of them could be a great group of friends. They end up huddled on the nest of blankets in a cuddle pile, the muted lights helping the auditorium seem less creepy (even though it really, really is creepy without the usual din of voices that he's come to associate it with and the plentiful amount of overly dark shadows). Harry falls into a fitful sleep on the still hard surface, wedged under Niall's armpit with Zayn's elbow in his side and Liam Payne snoring like a freight train.

;;

The opening performance goes absolutely swimmingly. His actors look great in their clothes, Louis' trousers don't tear, Grimmy makes an amazing Scrooge, and Liam Payne is only slightly manic over the intercom, and Caroline only breaks five various objects out of stress. But something's still off about Louis when he interacts with Harry, and he'd pin it to Louis maybe having performance jitters but Harry is literally the only person he acts oddly with. Maybe it's because of the almost-kiss? Perhaps the kiss wasn't as mutually yearned for as Harry had thought.

Nonetheless, he still claps insanely loud for Louis when he returns from the last scene that he's in. Louis is purely radiant, leaking drops of sunshine off his skin as he yanks Harry into an excited hug and smears foundation onto Harry's shirt, which Harry doesn't mind at all. He didn't realize how much he missed Louis' touch until that moment, didn't realize how much he revelled in it until just then. He foolishly tries to sink into the embrace, make it last longer, but Louis is already pulling away and launching himself into Zayn's arms. His mouth pulls down into a pout on it's own accord, but it's nothing, really.

He doesn't have the chance to speak to Louis after it's all over because Gemma and his mum tote him and Niall off to Risso's to celebrate their success in the production even though they're just techies, really, and didn't even put a foot on the stage during the entire performance. Gemma waxes poetics about all of the costumes that Harry made until he starts to preen, and Anne engages Niall in conversation about his 'secret artsy side' while they wait on their inordinate amount of ordered food.

When his mum, Gemma, and Niall are reasonably occupied with tucking into their meals, Harry pulls out his phone to shoot off a quick text to Louis.

 **Harry Styles** to **Louis Tomlinson** [ _2:33 PM_ ]

_hey, lou :) you did great tonight. absolutely lovely. you're the star of everything. xxxx_

He doesn't get a reply that night. It's okay, or so he tells himself.

;;

Harry's a sap, simply put. Even when he's being clearly ignored he still manages to be attached, to think about Louis for an exorbitant amount of the day. And he's not even the least bit apologetic about it even though Gemma has told him how pathetic it all is because Harry is just a foolish _sap_.

Which is how he finds himself standing in front of Louis' house on Boxing Day, thanks to the stalkerish tendencies of Gemma that she swears she will never divulge to Harry unless she's on her deathbed and still hasn't had sex with David Beckham yet. He shifts the present in his arms and rings the door bell twice. It swings open almost-immediately to reveal two girls with matching jumpers that have Father Christmas's jolly face knitted on the front. They squint up at him imploringly with adorably knitted brows. They must be the first set of twins then, if his memory of what Louis told him the day that they made cookies together at the party is anything to go by.

"Who are you?" Twin on the left asks, crossing her ankles and leaning against the doorway.

"Harry," he smiles in a hopefully charming way. The twins huddle together and whisper pointedly, saying his name at different intervals before retracting with mischevious smiles not unlike their brother's.

"Are you here for Louis?" Twin on the right asks, Harry nods. Another round of whispers ensues.

"Are you _The_ Harry?"

Harry shrugs, "Maybe?"

"Good enough," Twin on the left smiles and opens the door even wider. Perhaps they should be taught more about not being so willing to allow strangers into their home, but right now he's not sure if Louis himself would allow Harry in, so he'll take what he can get."

"His room is in the attic. So go up all of the stairs and knock really loud. He's probably listening to his weepy music." One of them explain and then he's left alone in the entry hall of the Tomlinson home.

"Okay, Styles, you've got this." He murmurs to himself and navigates the narrow stairway, nearly braining himself on a few sporadically placed dolls and frilly tutus.

Louis' door is covered with footie posters and a few polaroids of him and his mates from the footie team, and also a massive drawing of Louis and Zayn throwing westside signs in the very middle of it. (Harry's mostly endeared by the white board that's placed pretty low on the door with various child's chicken scratch on it all spelling out variations of _'Love you, Lou_.') He steels himself before knocking, and a few seconds later Louis is opening up the door in a massive grey speckled jumper, tight black joggers, and actual glasses that define his cheekbones while also making him look so insanely soft that Harry has to refrain himself from wrapping Louis in a blanket, serving him tea, and patting his downy fringe. Louis' mouth opens and closes with shock before he settles on closing it and arching his brows in shock.

"Harry?" Louis finally says something, Harry exhales shakily.

"Yeah, uh, _hi_. I.. I got you something for Christmas. Happy Christmas, Lou."

"Oh. You didn't have to get me anything, Haz. Shit, I didn't get you anything -"

"I never expected something in return. Just open the bloody present, Louis."

Louis opens his mouth, closes it, and nods. He thumbs over the nametag that's just a simple _'For Lou'_ so fondly that Harry's heart flips in his chest. Maybe there's hope, maybe Louis doesn't actually hate him for reasons unknown. He tears into the present gently, not even ripping the paper one bit before pausing at the actual gift, putting his hands on the blue satin bow that's holding it's outer shell together.

"Pull it?"

"Pull it," Harry confirms.

Louis nods before pulling the bow, lifting the top slowly and gasping adorably when the sides all fan out. Louis mumbles something to himself before flipping through the sides on each one. Smiling at the prints from old theatre productions and footie games. He moves aside the pair of rainbow colored socks with a giggle, Harry got him them as an addition so that the entire gift wouldn't seem _too_ sappy, before setting in on reading the message that Harry wrote at the end of the make shift box. Harry looks away as Louis mouths along with it, cringing when Louis let's out a small sigh.

"You can't keep doing this to me, Harry." Louis says after a decent amount of silence.

Harry whips around to look straight into Louis' red rimmed eyes. "Doing _what_?" He may or may not want to cry, too, he just poured his heart out in that sodding gift and Louis is just going to - _what_?

"Making me feel like you _fancy_ me or something-"

"I do fancy you, I literally wrote that in the present I've spent over a month making."

"But you're dating _Niall_."

The silence in Louis' room is deafening, aside from the tinny music still coming from Louis' abandoned headphones and the whir of his space heater.

"What?" Harry asks before dissolving into laughter. " _What_?"

"Don't laugh! Liam told me that you two were dating, and I asked Zayn and he said that he thought so, too," Louis explains hurriedly, and he actually looks distressed, like he actually believes- _shit_.

"Niall is my best mate, Louis. Nothing more."

"But you are always touching and you always tell each other you love each other."

"Oh, so you know never tell Zayn that you love him?"

"Well.. I mean we _do_ , but we usually tack on a 'bro' on the end, or summat."

"Louis. I do not fancy Niall, nor am I dating him. I fancy _you_."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Harry echoes even though a smile is risking to break open across his face. There's a soft, cuddly Louis that has wound up practically in his lap during the entire exchange, and the slow snowfall outside is painting a perfect background behind him from the angle that they're settled in.

"Can I kiss you, then?" Louis asks after a few moments. "Because I've been wanting to for literal _years_. Even more so after I got to know you."

"Did you literally ask me that?" Harry asks around a smile, slowly putting one of his hands on Louis' waist. Louis nods meekly. "You're too precious, Lou. Now kiss me, you fool."

Louis hurriedly yanks Harry by the jaw to the angle he wants, allowing a moment for them to both stare dopily into each other's eyes before he's being met with Louis' thin, soft lips. Harry presses against them intently, revelling in the warmth that it brings while Louis twines a hand in Harry's hair.

It all feels a lot like coming home on a snowy day.

**Author's Note:**

> Deleted Scene:
> 
> "He thought what?" Niall asks around a mouthful of Christmas biscuit, cutting his eyes over to Zayn in a hysterical picture of shock.
> 
> "That you and I were dating," Harry repeats.
> 
> Niall barks out a laugh, grabbing Zany by the collar and mumbling, "Oh, babes," before smashing their mouths together. It's all quite cute. 
> 
> *presses kisses to your cheeks*
> 
> Thanks so much if you finished this all the way through!
> 
> Happy (super belated but who cares there's still snow on the ground) Holidays!
> 
> Leave comments and share this if you liked it!
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr at because--itrhymes if you'd like! xx


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